Briars in the Road
by lyndaloo
Summary: In the months after WWII, Lt. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam meets a young woman while on vacation in Charleston, SC. Three years later Mr. Darcy spies that same girl swimming on his friend Bingley's new property. Complete!
1. Per Aspera

Richard Fitzwilliam looked out at the steel-colored waters of the Atlantic and thought of England. He either didn't notice or didn't care about the sky darkening with the gathering storm. He was remembering the last time he had seen his father, in the empty vestibule of some formerly great house in London. It was just before his battalion left for France, and even knowing his only living son could very likely be killed, the Ambassador couldn't bring himself to even shake his hand. Two months later, Richard had taken a bullet in the neck. He lay bleeding in the rubble, and all he could think about was that cold, empty house and his father's colder eyes. No thoughts of love, happiness or warmth found him in those moments before he lost consciousness. He only saw blame, loss, and grief. _Is this all there is? _He wondered as the medics worked over him. That thought sunk him into a despair he had not yet been able to bring himself out of. It was if the world had been washed with gray, everything tender and green had been burnt to ash.

Once he had recovered from his physical wounds (he had a shattered wrist and three broken ribs) he didn't even think about trying to see his father again. He didn't know if the old man even knew he survived the war. He didn't imagine he cared either way.

Instead he went home to Virginia for a while. He made daily trips to see his mother in her nursing home. He would sit with her for hours, not speaking a word. Of course she _couldn't_ speak. His mother hadn't spoken a word since Richard was a boy, the result of a traumatic head injury. She only sat it her wheelchair, staring vacantly at nothing and everything, and for the first time in his life, Richard envied his mother.

Eventually, he was persuaded to stay with his Darcy cousins on their estate in the mountains of North Carolina. He hadn't been there in over five years, since before the war. The first breath of mountain air changed everything somehow, he felt _clean _again, and for the first time realized he might recover after all. He was slowly knitting himself together again, though he still slept very little and had to force himself to eat. Sleep brought nightmares and food had no taste. In the meantime, he tried his best to hide his affliction from his cousins, Georgiana and Will. He had them to live for, he had his motorcycle, and thanks to his large interest in Darcy's munitions factory (an investment his father, the Ambassador, had advised him against), he had his own fortune intact. He was beholden to no man but himself.

Taking a break from his cousin's company, Richard had decided to tour the coast. He'd driven his motorcycle from Pemberley to Wilmington, from there to Myrtle Beach and on. He was deeply tanned and windblown; his usually brown hair was lightened by the sun, his cheekbones pronounced from his weight loss and his eyes slightly sunken, overall giving him the appearance of a rangy lion. He didn't mind, he'd always been handsome in an off-kilter way, but now he was distinctly attractive and repellant at the same time. Something to be admired, but warily.

He found himself in Charleston on May first, escaping to the seaside to find some relief from the heat in the ocean air. He paced slowly up and down the boardwalk, noticing only several other tourists; no doubt most of the city knew to keep indoors with a storm approaching. He looked up at the heavy black clouds with a feeling that was almost smug. Deep down, he admitted, Richard couldn't care less if the storm picked him up and deposited him in the middle of the ocean. The war, his father, his whole _life_ had made him weary deep in his blood and bones. To not struggle anymore, he thought, could only be a relief.

Richard realized that he had been absentmindedly staring at a woman who stood on the beach. Her blue dress was whipped back by the wind, snapping like a flag. She held her sandals in one hand and watched her feet as they sank into the wet sand. He watched, mesmerized as she stepped out of the sinking sand, repeating the exercise again and again.

A boom of thunder rolled across the sky, making Richard look up. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the lady did the same. He couldn't see her face properly, only the swirl of dark curls around her head. Something about the woman's delight in this simple pleasure of feet sinking in sand made him feel an odd reluctance to leave the fascinating scene below him. Almost reluctant, he made his way back to his motorcycle.

The breeze had turned almost chilly as the first fat raindrops began to fall. He was only a mile away from his hotel, but was nevertheless anxious to get out of what was promising to be a hell of a storm. As he neared his bike, he saw the woman in the blue dress walking close by, still barefoot, looking anxiously up at the sky. A few drops of rain had already fallen on her shoulders, turning her dress a darker blue in those places. He noticed that she was extremely pretty, with dark expressive eyes and a healthy complexion. Her obvious worry at being caught in the storm strained her features and he only hesitated a second before speaking to her.

"Ma'am?" She continued walking towards the sidewalk, either not having heard him or purposely ignoring him. He called out to her again. "Pardon me, Miss?" This time she turned around and looked at him. She could hardly be called a woman; she didn't look to be a day older than eighteen. He was struck by the expression in her dark eyes, like two pools of liquid ink, and he was silent for several moments before he noticed the furrow in her brow. That had decided him.

"Do you have far to walk, Miss? I'd be happy to give you a ride if you need one." He said, gesturing towards his motorcycle. The girl looked at him, skeptical, then at the motorcycle. A wry smile twisted her mouth charmingly.

"Thank you," her voice was softened by her accent, but he noticed that it had none of the usual thickness of the Charleston accents, "but my hotel is over a mile away, I was going to wait out the rain in that diner." She pointed north, about seven blocks down the street where the diner's sign was clearly lit 'Matlock's'. He had to chuckle at the name, the Fitzwilliam's were descended from English nobility. If his ancestor hadn't been banished in disgrace during the reign of King George III, Richard might even now be the Earl of Matlock. It seemed as though one of his father's incessant family history lessons had finally paid off.

"Mister, it's a diner. Not Bob Hope." He turned to look at the girl, who stood there in here bare feet, arching an eyebrow at him. He hadn't even realized he was laughing out loud. _When was the last time I did that? _He couldn't recall.

"Let me at least give you a ride that far, please." He asked.

She seemed to be weighing him with her eyes, sizing him up. Her dark eyes narrowed as she chewed her bottom lip, considering. Richard was fascinated. He'd shown very little interest in women as of late, his main concern was usually just to make it through the day. Now he found himself bewitched by some girl barely old enough to be looked at, who had just appeared on the beach as if she rose from the foam. The thought made him smile openly, though he was a bit out of practice.

At his genuine smile, it seemed as if the sun were shining just for a moment on his face, and she nodded once before brushing the sand off of her feet and replacing her sandals.

"Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" he asked. At this she laughed openly, a low bubbling sound that made him tingle from his feet to the roots of his hair.

"Don't fret on my sake, Mister" she said, "I know enough not to fall off the back of one."

Richard flashed another sunny grin and straddled the motorcycle in one fluid movement. A moment after he felt her weight on the seat behind him. He was polite enough not to look behind him as she adjusted her dress, no matter how badly he wanted to. He revved the engine to life, not feeling the cold rain that was falling more freely now, but the warmth emanating from behind him. He felt her arms timidly clutching the sides of his jacket, and he took a moment to enjoy the closeness of this strange girl. She smelled incredible, like rain and salt and something sweet but earthy at the same time, the way vines sometimes smelled. He savored it a moment before backing the bike up and speeding off in the direction of the Diner. He may have been showing off, just a bit.

Too soon for his liking, they reached Matlock's. Parking the bike under the awning he once again gave her a moment to dismount and adjust her dress before turning to look at her. The rain was falling freely now, drops were caught in the curls of her hair like dew on a spider web. He made an effort not to notice the way her blue dress clung to her in places. Instead he looked at her face, and saw a softened expression of gratitude in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, "can I at least buy you a cup of coffee for your trouble, Mister…?" He returned her smile and held out his hand "Richard Fitzwilliam. And I would love a cup of coffee, Miss…?"

"I'm Elizabeth Bennet", she put her small hand in his and gave it a quick, firm shake. "It's nice to meet you, Richard Fitzwilliam. Do you think we should go in or do you think we ought to start gathering two of every animal?"

He laughed out loud, killing the engine on the bike. He got off and shrugged out of his jacket before handing it over to her.

"Please", was all he said. The jacket was as much for his sake as for hers. He saw her face flush prettily before she nodded and slipped it over her slender shoulders. Though the jacket was slightly damp too, it at least gave her the advantage of hiding her wet clothes. They hurried together towards the diner entrance, and when Richard opened the door for her he couldn't resist putting his hand on her back to usher her in.

The girl, _Elizabeth,_ he reminded himself, choose a booth facing the street. From where they sat they could see rain pouring down in heavy sheets. The street had already begun to flood, and Richard was glad he had not driven much further. Settling in to their booth, he felt her eyes on him and chose to continue looking out the window for the time being. The waitress, a pretty older woman who wore entirely too much lipstick, came over to them and greeted Elizabeth by name.

"Miss Lizzy, did you get caught up in that rain?" Elizabeth smiled up at the waitress.

"Almost, ma'am. My friend Richard here gave me a ride so it wasn't too bad."

The waitress turned to him with a knowing smile. _Am I that obvious?_ He wondered. He felt uncomfortable under so much scrutiny, and for a moment considered that this is what his cousin Darcy must feel like. His discomfort must have shown because the waitress next took out her order pad and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. "What can I get ya'll?" she asked.

Elizabeth ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of peach pie for herself; he briefly looked up and ordered the same. The waitress nodded and was off, coming back moments later with two cups of steaming black coffee, a bowl of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of cream, and two slices of warm peach pie that smelled so sweet his stomach gave an involuntary rumble.

He looked up at Elizabeth, who had continued her observation of him while stirring her coffee absently.

"So." She paused to take a sip from her mug, "Richard Fitzwilliam. That's a bit of a mouthful."

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. He smiled back, taking a long pull off of his coffee before answering her.

"I suppose it is. You can call me Rich if you like." She considered before answering, "No, I like Richard. It's a respectable sounding name. Pair that with your motorcycle; you can't get much more respectable in these parts."

"And should I call you Elizabeth or would you prefer Lizzie?"

"Oh by all means, stick with Elizabeth. I won't be satisfied unless I'm at least somewhat respectable myself." She said playfully before biting into a forkful of pie. He smiled at her, saying, "Elizabeth it is then. And I'm only too happy to be Richard for you. By all means let's be respectable." She tried to hide her smile behind her napkin as she chewed.

"If you don't mind my asking, how are you enjoying Charleston? You mentioned you were staying in a hotel so I took it to mean you're only visiting."

He paused to let her answer and to try the pie. He was immediately aware of the rich sweetness and a hint of tart flooding his mouth, and under that the buttery flavor of the warm crust. The sensation, the _taste_ was so overpowering it almost made his eyes water. He didn't think he'd ever eaten anything so sweet, so deliciously perfect in his life as that bite of peach pie. He felt some small part of him relax and let go of some undefined weight that he'd been carrying around. Between the pie, and the beautiful dark eyes that looked at him from across the booth, Richard felt something close to happiness for the first time in years.

_What an extraordinary day this is turning out to be! _He thought to himself.

Elizabeth took another sip of coffee before answering. "Yes, my sister and I are visiting with our Aunt. I'm going to college in a few months and coming to Charleston with my Jane was my Aunt's gift to me." Her face wore a mix of embarrassment and pride that he found completely endearing.

"And is your sister going to College too?"

She flushed deeper, "No, Jane is training to be a nurse and stays home to help my mother deal with my other sisters. I'm the second eldest, so I'm the first of us, besides my father, to go to college. I suspect my sister Mary is clever enough for it, but she won't graduate for another year, and I'm not sure she's got the ambition."

He read between the lines that she was going on scholarship, or else she would not be going at all. He admired her for it. After all, he hadn't been _born_ rich like his cousins. Though he was rich now, he'd never imagined he'd earn more in life than a Colonel's salary. He knew how difficult it was to raise yourself up from humble beginnings, and the kind of backbone it took to do so. Again he thought about how only an hour ago he was alone and full of dark thoughts, and now here he was with a mouthful of peach pie, sitting across from an uncommonly pretty and clever young lady, who shivered for a moment and pulled his jacket closer around her.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Richard could hardly contain his curiosity. Tired of dwelling on his own life and the problems that came with it, it was a welcome distraction to ask about someone else's.

"No brothers and four sisters." She was looking off at nothing, obviously thinking of home, a somewhat rueful smile on her face.

"Five daughters? That must keep your father busy!" She laughed out loud, her eyes sparkling as they focused on him again.

"We have a small cluster of farms in Meryton, my father spends most of his time either in the fields or in his office with a book. Having five daughters has certainly taught him the finer points of quiet and solitude."

"And your mother?"

"Rendered silly by her ambition to marry all of her daughters off to rich men."

He hoped she didn't hear his quick intake of breath. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and focused on him.

"But what about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?" Richard's mouth compressed to a grim line.

"One brother, and if you can believe it his name's even more of a mouthful than my own."

"Longer than Richard Fitzwilliam? Heaven Forbid!"

"Actually, my full name's Lieutenant Colonel Richard George Fitzwilliam".

"I hope you don't mind if I don't use your full moniker but continue with just 'Richard'. I can only tolerate so much respectability. How on earth could your brother's name be longer than _that_?"

"His full name was Lieutenant Commander James Robert Fitzwilliam the Third". Her eyes widened at the word '_was'_, but only for a moment. She tentatively put a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I stand corrected, Sir. If my name were that long I'm sure it would take me a week to sign it."

He appreciated her tact; he knew his misery must have been plain on his face. He'd lost his brother three years ago on the _Lexington_. Their father had always preferred James, and his death had been the last straw in an already strained dynamic. The Ambassador's words still echoed in his head. _I wish it had been you. _Richard felt the despair threaten like a black wave and pushed it down. Looking at Elizabeth, but thinking of his father, he suddenly wanted to shield her from anything ugly or cold, even if something was him.

Attempting to lighten the mood, he continued "But I do have joint guardianship of my young cousin, along with her brother, who is like a brother to me. We're all close enough to pass for actual siblings."

"Have you traveled much?" she asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from dark waters. "I only come here once a year maybe to visit my Aunt and Uncle, other than that I've never been anywhere."

He settled in his seat and told her about all that he had seen as a boy, growing up in Washington D.C., and about his travels in Boston, New York and Philadelphia. Any talk of the war he avoided, which she had already picked up on. She didn't ask about anything relating to the last six years, but instead focused on his boyhood and the wonders of New York, which she had always wanted to visit. They continued on this way for another hour, neither of them had noticing that the rain had ceased and the street was clear, drying in the sudden appearance of the May sun.

Only a lilting voice crying "Lizzie!" from the door was able to put an end to their conversation. Richard saw Elizabeth eyes soften with affection before she blushed again, having been caught at a diner with a strange man. He turned around towards to see who had spoken from the door, his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

Walking towards them was one of, perhaps _the_ most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. Her soft, blond curls rested like a golden crown on her head, her deep blue eyes wore an expression of concern and relief. Her skin was like bisque porcelain, except for her rosy cheeks, and she was tall and graceful.

"Jane, I'd like you to meet my new friend." Elizabeth said from across the booth, amused at his dumbfounded expression.

"Richard, this is my sister Jane Bennet. Jane, this is Richard Fitzwilliam. He helped me escape the flood so I thought I'd treat him to a cup of coffee and some pie."

"Nice to meet you" he managed. Jane Bennet wore a gentle expression, her face shone with gratitude. "Mister Fitzwilliam, thank you for helping my sister." She turned to Elizabeth.

"I was so worried with this weather Lizzie, and you were gone for so long!"

"Did Aunt Gardiner let you take the car?" she asked, surprised. Jane nodded. "Well, then I suppose we'd better get back and put her mind at ease." Elizabeth said. Richard was thrilled to hear the reluctance in her voice. Jane seemed to take the hint and inclined her head towards Richard in a quaint gesture. "Mister Fitzwilliam, it was very nice to meet you." She said with a soft, friendly smile. He barely had time to return the sentiment before she glided out the door and headed towards a large gray sedan. Elizabeth stood and seemed to consider something before speaking.

"Richard. I hope that you will come have dinner with my sister and my aunt and I tomorrow night. We're staying at the King Charles Inn?" she phrased the last like a question; he nodded and said he knew where it was.

"Well then." She took off his jacket, handing it back to him. He draped the jacket over his arm, fighting the instinct to bury his face in it and inhale her rain-salt-vines smell. She took some money out of the pocket of her dress to leave on the table, and he took the hand in his, shaking his head.

"No, Elizabeth. I won't let you pay for this. That was probably the best pie I've ever had in my life. I would feel guilty if I let you pay." Her hand was warm, almost hot to the touch. He couldn't be sure but for a second he thought he felt it grip his own. She flushed a fierce red, his hand still holding hers, and smiled up at him.

"How about we go Dutch?" she asked. He stared blankly at her.

"Go Halfsies? Split the bill?" He smiled, shaking his head.

"Not a chance." Slowly, he released her hand. She put her money back in her pocket, keeping her eyes anywhere but his. He knew she was embarrassed by his boldness, but seemed to be pleased as well.

"I will come by your hotel tomorrow, and if your Aunt and Sister don't mind, then I would be happy to join you for dinner." His voice was low, just above a whisper. She looked up at him fully at last, turning the full force of her dark eyes on him. He felt himself melt him from the inside out. Her sister might be more beautiful by most people's standards, but Elizabeth had an undefined quality that made her more irresistible than any young woman he had ever encountered.

"I'll look forward to seeing you then" she said, still red-faced but by no means displeased. With that, she walked out the door and joined her sister by the gray sedan. He sat down heavily in the booth, watching the car pull away. "Elizabeth Bennet" he said to himself. No other words were necessary.


	2. Little Sparrow

Dinner with the Bennet girls and their Aunt proved to be an easier affair than Richard had anticipated. Elizabeth and Jane were natural conversationalists; Jane's opinions were less biased than her sister's, while Elizabeth had more of a quickness and wit. Madeline Gardiner, he found, was polite, elegant, well informed, and clearly adored her nieces. After a few polite inquiries Richard learned that her husband, Edward Gardiner, operated a shipping business near Charleston. He inferred that it was lucrative enough for Mrs. Gardiner to have her two eldest nieces come stay every summer and give them a "girls week" in the town, which explained why they were staying at the King Charles rather than the Gardiner home in Beaufort.

Richard found that he felt more like himself when he was around Elizabeth. After a few days in her company, he had begun to think of her as "Lizzie" in his head already, and couldn't stop picturing holding her, and whispering her name between soft, tentative kisses. _Lizzie. Lizzie. Lizzie. _He pictured with satisfaction the look on his father's face if the Ambassador were to see his Highly Disappointing Son practically chasing after a farmer's daughter. If anything, it only made her more attractive. By the end of their first week together Richard imagined himself in love with her, by the end of the second week he was convinced of it.

As for how Elizabeth felt about him, Richard couldn't be sure. She seemed to care for him. They'd been walking up and down East Bay Street, looking at the famous homes of Rainbow Row the first time he reached down and took her hand. She seemed surprised but said nothing, only returning his hand's gentle pressure with her own. On a different evening, they sat on a blanket in Marion Square to watch a fireworks show. He pulled her close to him; she leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder. His senses flooded with her clean, earthy smell. He pressed his lips to her dark curls, so gently she didn't even notice. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding, as though it was straining break through his chest to get closer to her.

Richard wanted her in his life, but questioned his reasons. Did he truly love this girl, or did he cling to her because she made him feel almost like himself again? He tried to reason that having such a woman would keep his nightmares away. But when he closed his eyes, it wasn't Elizabeth Bennet he dreamed of. It was his friends, shot to pieces and dying beside him in France, his brother James, surrounded by water and fire and blood, his mother's vacant stare, his father's cold eyes. _I wish it had been you._

Her age was something he considered as well. At only eighteen, she was grown up enough for him to admire and even desire, but somehow trying for more seemed wrong to Richard. She was the first of the Bennet daughters to go to college, and given her pride in the accomplishment he felt that it would be wrong for her to be denied that. _But if she had the choice,_ he wondered, _what would she decide?_

Richard couldn't ask Elizabeth to shoulder such a burden. He felt that she deserved a chance at life with someone whole. He could wish she had known him before the war, when his manners were easy and open, when his disposition was as playful as her own. He could wish that she wasn't nine years younger than him, or that the war had never happened, but what did wishing ever lead to other than disappointment?

He saw the Bennet girls and Mrs. Gardiner every day over the next two weeks. Together the four of them, sometimes only He, Jane and Lizzie, explored the cobblestone streets and courtyard gardens of Charleston. They spent a day on the Battery, and Lizzie persuaded Mrs. Gardiner to drive them all out to the ruins of the Old Sheldon Church. Virginia and D.C. had their share of old ruins, but Richard was struck by how lovely and almost noble the place was. Surrounded by ancient trees with low-hanging branches dripping with curly Spanish moss, it was possibly the most peaceful spot he'd ever seen, which was ironic given that it had seen not one but two wars. Lizzie explained to him that the structure was burnt in the Revolutionary war; and was burned again by Sherman in 1865 in his destructive March to the Sea.

It hadn't escaped his attention that no matter where they went, she seemed to know the history of the place, down to the very blades of grass. He noticed she would get a faraway look in her eyes when they visited some of these places, and he silently observed her as she wandered, touching the old brick columns almost lovingly. Richard would have been happy to watch her all day, his little bird among the ruins.

Two weeks after that first rainy encounter, the two of them were walking along the same spot of shore. This time it was a fine, clear day. Jane had gone with her Aunt to some of the shops on King Street for one last shopping venture before their departure back to their home that weekend. They walked the shore and talked about books, a subject they both relished and discussed at length. Lizzie once again held her sandals in one hand, and without thinking Richard reached out and took the other one firmly in his grasp. He stopped and looked at her.

"Lizzie" he said hoarsely. It was all he needed to say, her expression sobered from curious to serious.

"Lizzie, I…" rather than finishing his sentence he pulled her forward into his arms. Her hair tickled the side of his face, he meant to move his head to avoid it, but found himself pressing his lips to the delicate line of her jaw. He was surprised to hear a little gasp and feel her arms wrapping shyly around his waist.

"Richard" she whispered, and with that he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her full on the mouth, tasting salt spray and taffy. Her lips parted, a little at first, then more. He knew that there was nothing he wouldn't give her; all she had to do was ask. He didn't care if he was damaged goods, or she was only Eighteen, or that at that moment half of Charleston could see them kissing. He felt feverish, his hands throbbed and the world spun dizzily. He hadn't felt so real, so _alive, _in months. Her fingers stroked his neck, bringing a groan from the back of his throat. When he realized she was touching his scar and stiffened, withdrawing from her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him gravely. Ever so gently, she pressed her lips to the scar, to the place that had been the source of so much pain, not just in itself but also in what it represented. He shuddered all over and held her closer; whispering her name like he'd wanted to do, in between soft kisses. "Lizzie. Lizzie. Lizzie."

Some time later they sat on a blanket and watched the waves coming in, going out. He held her hand and caressed the inside of her palm with his thumb. There were so many things he wanted to say. His mind, body, and heart were all a riot of confusion, each one pulling him in a different direction. She smiled up at him.

"You don't have to feel guilty, you know." He thought she meant he didn't have to feel guilty about kissing her, and he was about to say that there was no way in hell he'd ever regret _that_, when she said

"We've got to go our separate ways tomorrow." Startled, he looked down at her. She continued, "I just don't want you to feel like you're being a cad, I don't think that at all."

"Lizzie. You have to know that I would, that I _want_ to…" he started to say, she held up her hand in a silencing gesture.

"I'm realistic. We've only known each other a few days. You are obviously a good deal older than me," she grinned playfully at his affronted expression, "and I go off to college in two months. No. Let's just call each other 'dear friend' for now and go our separate ways. If we are meant to meet again, someday we will. But for now, I think we both have a lot of work to do, wouldn't you agree?"

He turned and sat on his knees in the sand, facing her. "Elizabeth Bennet. I'm telling you I'll marry you. I'm telling you that I'm in-"

"Don't." she demanded. She looked away, watching the surf for a moment. When she turned back her eyes were skeptical.

"Can you make me happy, Richard?" He didn't know how to respond, because he didn't know the answer. She was right, and it stung. He was completely dumbfounded. Never in his life did he imagine such clear-headed judgment from a young country girl. He held her hand up to his chest and looked down at her.

"This has been one of the best weeks, probably _the _best week I've had in over six years. I won't forget you, my little sparrow. I hope one day you _do_ fly into my life again." She smiled warmly at him and they turned their faces back to the ocean, which was now a calm blue-green under the sunny sky. They had already said everything they needed to.

He did not see the tear slip from the corner of her eye.


	3. Homecomings

"Richard!" Georgiana could hardly contain her excitement at seeing her favorite cousin walking up the flagstone path.

"Georgiana!" laughing, he picked her up and spun her around before carefully putting her back down. Touching his finger to her nose, he whispered, "I brought you a bag full of sea shells, Georgie."

Georgiana Darcy, at 14 years old, who could want for nothing and had only to ask for a thing and it was given to her, was never so delighted with anything as she was the bag of shells her cousin Richard brought her back from the coast. She pulled one out and marveled at its pearly sheen and to everyone's surprise, stuck her tongue out and touched it to the shell.

"Georgie!" her brother Will said in a scandalized tone. It was the sound of Richard's full laugh that made everyone stop and look up.

Fitzwilliam "Will" Darcy was renowned for having a sharp eye, which he now turned on his cousin, noticing the circles under his eyes were so much lighter they were practically nonexistent, and that his cheekbones were less pronounced. His face and arms were quite tanned, and he was looking all together hale and healthy, if a little restless. Darcy hoped his relief didn't show. His cousin was the closest thing he had to a brother, and when they were boys he and Richard had been nearly inseparable.

Richard's friendliness and charm had always helped balance Darcy's quiet aloofness. But since the war, Richard had been solemn, prone to long periods of brooding and dark moods. Darcy made efforts to be more open and outgoing for his cousin's sake, and in the past few months had really started to worry. He had even worried whether he had done the right thing by letting Richard tour the coast, wondering if he ever planned to come back, or come back alive. Now seeing him, not just smiling but _laughing_, Darcy felt a weight fall off of his shoulders.

"Richard, man, it's good to have you back." Darcy said, clapping his cousin on the back and leading him into the house along with Georgiana.

"We want to hear all about your trip. You can tell us all about the Ocean." Richard's sudden softening of expression didn't escape his cousin's notice either. He knew Darcy would be burning with curiosity but wouldn't pry. He thought for a moment and decided he would tell Darcy, at least part of what transpired in Charleston. Elizabeth's identity he would keep treasured up like a talisman, but he didn't see what harm it would be for Darcy to hear the rest.

"Most of it, anyway", he muttered to himself as he walked into the house.

After dinner they smoked cigars on the side porch, listening to the crickets and frogs singing in the brush, Georgie playing piano in the sitting room, and the creak of their rocking chairs against the boards of the porch. Richard looked up at the star-filled sky, feeling calm despite his cousin's penetrating stare. "Go ahead and ask me, Darcy." He said directly.

"Richard, you know I don't want to pry. I just can't help but notice the difference between the man who left here three weeks ago and the man I'm looking at right now." Richard was nodding his head, still not looking at Darcy. His mind, like his heart, was somewhere else.

"Whatever it was, Richard, it's done you good. And it has my gratitude." Richard at last turned to look at his cousin.

"_She_ has your gratitude, Will."

Darcy wasn't at all surprised. Before the War, Richard had been something of a Ladies' Man, and definitely had the advantage over Darcy where women were concerned. But something was obviously different this time. Richard didn't wear the usual cocky, self-assured grin that he used when talking about women. In its place there was a gentle, thoughtful expression. Darcy couldn't recall ever seeing on Richard, he thought it made him look slightly older, in a good way.

"Are you going to tell me about this mystery woman or not, Richie?" Richard nodded and said "Some, Darcy. I'd like to keep the lady's name to myself if you don't mind."

"Why? Is she someone I might know?"

Richard laughed out loud. "I would be _very_ surprised if you did! No, Will. I hope you know her someday. She is an incredible young woman." With that he began to tell his cousin about their meeting near the boardwalk, the hours in the diner, her beautiful sister and gracious aunt, their final walk on the beach, only leaving out her tenderly kissing his scar, the question that followed, and the subsequent refusal. That memory he wanted to carry silently for the rest of his life. Darcy listened silently and patiently, nodding in places to show he understood, suspecting that there was more than what his cousin was telling him. When Richard had finished Darcy shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

"She sounds lovely, if only a bit too young. A clever one, too! Are you satisfied to leave it as is?" Richard nodded hesitantly.

"I may look her up in a few years, when she finishes University. I'm almost afraid to allow myself to think about it, so much can happen in two years. I hope only the best for her." Darcy stood to go back into the house. Before ducking his tall frame through the door, he nodded and said, "Then so do I, Richie." leaving Richard alone on the porch.

Richard continued rocking and looking up at the brilliant stars in the sky. "Elizabeth Bennet." He said her name as fervently as a prayer, not noticing that Georgie had ceased playing piano some time ago.

* * *

A week passed, then a month, and then before Richard realized it, four months had gone by. He was surprised to find the peace and solace that came in the work his cousin's estate and farms provided. He and Darcy were riding through one of the orchards when he noticed that the fall had changed Pemberley. The countryside and surrounding mountains were a riot of oranges, yellows and reds.

"Good Lord!" Richard reined his horse to a stop. Darcy turned and did the same, a worried look on his face.

"Are you alright, Richie?" Richard looked at his cousin.

"Its autumn!" he exclaimed, astounded. Darcy gave his cousin a look that was part exasperated, part confused.

"What other time of year would we be going to check on the apple-picking in the orchard, Richard?" Urging his horse on, Darcy shook his head at his cousin. Richard chuckled to himself and followed his cousin to the apple grove.

Christmas was coming to Pemberley, and with it would come visitors. Will's good friend Charles Bingley would be joining them from Washington D.C. with his sister Caroline. His other sister Louisa was just married to a Mr. Hurst, and the newlyweds would be spending the holiday in New York. The Darcy's had also extended an invitation to their Aunt Catherine and Cousin Anne deBourgh, knowing it would not be accepted.

Though Pemberley was less than a day's drive, Catherine seldom left her home, not even to inspect her properties and holdings (including a sugar cane plantation near Savannah that was left to Anne by her father as a means of giving her some measure of independence) that had been in the deBourgh family for generations. Rather, that task was left to Darcy, and now Richard to handle for their Aunt. She rarely stirred from Rosings House in Camden, despite owning a home in Savannah and having relations one state away. Other than wishing to see their cousin Anne more often, the Darcy's were perfectly content with this arrangement.

Georgiana was trimming the Christmas tree in the family sitting room with Darcy's help. She playfully draped some tinsel in his dark curls, and he was chasing her around the room, trying to do the same to her when Richard walked in, his face grim and white. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand. Wordlessly, he collapsed into a chair by the fireplace.

"Good God, what's happened?" Darcy exclaimed. Richard only shook his head and handed the paper to Darcy, which he read and re-read, the words not seeming to make sense.

'It is my duty to inform you that Ambassador Fitzwilliam had died from pneumonia. Services are to be held in London on Tuesday. Please advise if you need assistance with travel arrangements. Our Deepest Condolences.'

Richard was surprised to feel anger at his father's death. He'd never gotten along well with him, but until that last meeting in London he had been content with the arrangement. Now he was expected to attend services for a man whose last words to him had been '_If you are so eager to jump in front of a German bullet then who am I to stop you?'_ He barely felt Georgiana softly rubbing his shoulders, he didn't hear Darcy on the phone with his manager, making arrangements and travel plans for him. He was grateful for his cousin's presence of mind.

Richard rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He pulled at his hair in frustration. He felt months of slow, painful healing undoing itself. He breathed deep and pictured the ocean. At that moment, the only thing he could think of, the only thing he allowed himself to see, was Elizabeth Bennet, standing in her blue dress in front of a gathering storm.


	4. And Me, Poor Girl

Elizabeth looked to make sure no one was around before slipping out of her dress and draping it over a nearby tree branch. Clad only in her undergarments, she walked about twenty yards back to the tree line before turning and breaking into a run. As she approached the water, she sprang into a jump, tucking her knees up and wrapping her hands around her calves. _Cannonball! _, She thought joyfully before splashing into the cool water.

She had woken up that morning drenched in sweat, despite having spent the night on her cot on the screen porch. Her only goal that day was to seek out the relative coolness of the woods, whose shade provided some relief, not to mention hiding her from her mother's histrionics. Once out of the house and away from the noise that came from having an excitable mother and three younger sisters, Elizabeth had decided to trek the two miles down to the pond on Netherfield Road. It was relatively close to Netherfield house, but Elizabeth didn't worry about being seen since no one had lived there for two years, since poor Mrs. McCutcheon had passed away. She, like so many, had lost her son in the war, and had never fully recovered.

Elizabeth hardly remembered Eli McCutcheon, but his mother Millie she remembered fondly, and sadly. She and Jane, sometimes joined by Mary or Charlotte Lucas, frequently visited old Miss Millie, bringing her groceries and keeping her company when she was no longer able to go in to town. When she had passed on, her nephew came up from New Orleans just long enough to put the lovely old Netherfield house up for sale. Elizabeth had been angry, knowing it was not what Miss Millie would have wanted. She remembered with pride how her own dear papa had made sure Miss Mille had wanted for nothing in her last years after the devastating loss of her beloved son. She knew her papa had never been so grateful to have daughters instead of sons, as he was when Eli McCutcheon died on Omaha Beach.

Lost in these sad reflections, Elizabeth floated on her back in the middle of the pond, looking up at the treetops and a perfect blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. As she began to swim lazily from one end of the pond to the other, she sang to herself absently, an old song she had always loved for it's sweet sadness.

_I wish, I wish my baby was born,_

_and sitting on it's papas knee_

_And me, poor girl were dead and gone_

_And the green grass growing o'er my feet_

_I ain't ahead, nor never will be_

_Till the sweet apple grows_

_On the sour apple tree_

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth at that moment, a tall, serious young man stood in the shelter of the oak trees, unable to move for fear the alluring, disturbing vision before him would evaporate. Will Darcy was certain he had stumbled upon a water sprite, a siren plucked straight out of the Odyssey. He dared not move from his hiding spot to try to see her face, for now all he could see was a small lithe body in undergarments made translucent by the water, gliding through the pond, a curtain of dark hair spilling out behind her. He had stumbled on this vision as he had roamed the woods behind the house on Netherfield road. He had originally planned to turn around immediately and return to the house where his friend was still speaking with the attorney, but couldn't resist stopping for a moment to admire the young woman's figure. He was somewhat embarrassed by this, but like most young men he forgave himself quickly.

Having gotten a long look he was turning to leave when the girl began to sing. Unable to help himself, he stopped and touched a nearby tree trunk for support. _That song! _Gone from Darcy's mind were the playful if not entirely proper thoughts of a few moments ago. With her clear, sweet voice the girl's song was like a spell cast over him, rooting him to the spot. He stood in the shelter of the woods until she had finished her sweet lament, then reluctantly decided he should leave before she discovered his presence and rewarded him with a slap on the face or worse. Walking back to the main house in something of a daze, Darcy debated whether or not to tell Charles that this property came with it's own singing water sprite.

Elizabeth herself had no idea she had been watched, but rather enjoyed the cool water, the earthy smell of the mud on the bank, and most of all the peace and quiet of solitude. She was looking forward to the lessons she would begin with her father to learn the ins and outs of running Longbourn Farms. Her father was reluctant to agree since she was now a college-educated lady, but Elizabeth refused to settle for the type of position most would consider "suitable". She couldn't stand the thought of being cooped up in a schoolroom, an office, or even a hospital. No, she would be much happier deciding whether or not to plant peanuts or soybeans, or overseeing the construction of a new dairy barn. She had big ideas about what she wanted to do with Longbourn Farms, that was how she had decided to make her mark in the world as Elizabeth Bennet.

Also in her thoughts was the next month's festival to celebrate Meryton's centennial. She supposed her two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, would flirt shamelessly with the soldiers from the local National Guard Station and would have to be watched closely by their older sisters all night. Climbing out of the water, Elizabeth sighed as her thoughts turned to her sister Jane. Elizabeth hoped that Jane would soon meet a young man to call her sweetheart. She knew that her sister would not settle for admiration, she wanted love. And while several young men had fallen in love with Jane over the years, Jane had not yet felt that spark of attraction with anyone. Elizabeth knew that this pained her sister, though she never let it show, and Elizabeth herself felt a small pang of the same loneliness.

For the first time in three years, she remembered her first kiss, and the rest of that afternoon on the beach. Even in her wildest fantasies Elizabeth never could have dreamt up anything so romantic as that moment had been (excepting, of course, the presence of Clark Gable). She had cherished the memory, grateful to that young man for giving her such a lovely moment. And while there would be other kisses, that one would remain special. These thoughts did much to improve Elizabeth's mood, and after wringing out her water-heavy hair and slipping back into her dress she headed back to Longbourn with a much lighter heart, singing a merry tune as she wound her way through the wood.

* * *

Three weeks later, as she walked down the front steps of the church, Elizabeth was surprised by a lovely breeze that carried with it the promise of fall. The heat and humidity had been nearly unbearable that month, and she savored the new sudden coolness in the wind. She stood arm-in-arm with Jane beside the Bennet's weathered Ford, happily enjoying the break from humidity the wind afforded. She could hear her mother's flustered overtures from halfway across the parking lot. Apparently Mrs. Long, who was both her mother's closest confidant and arch nemesis, had already met the wealthy young man who was now Longbourn's closest neighbor.

The Bennets had been informed of Mr. Bingley's purchase of the house on Netherfield road two weeks ago. Mrs. Bennet's sister Evaline Phillips was married to the attorney who had overseen the sale of the house and the 300 acres that came with it, and had wasted no time in telling her sister of the handsome, wealthy young man from Virginia who was to be so fortunately situated near a home that boasted five pretty, unmarried daughters.

Mrs. Fanny Bennet had been all but impossible ever since. Elizabeth knew that her mother was silly, loud, at times terribly uncouth, but when it came to the possible matrimony of her daughters, she was as single-minded as a freight train on a one-way track. She had been begging Mr. Bennet host a barbecue to welcome Mr. Bingley to the area, seeing as how they were his closest neighbors. Mr. Bennet, knowing after twenty-five years exactly how to most irritate his wife, maintained that it was silly to have a party for a man they had yet to meet, and that Mr. Bingley would probably appreciate having the chance to unpack before Mrs. Bennet foisted one of their daughters on him.

Lizzy and Jane looked at each other and shared a rueful smile at their mother's expense. They had already prepared a basket to take to Mr. Bingley and his Sister that afternoon, and by their father's request had not spoken a word of it to their mother. Jane wasn't quite as comfortable as her father and Elizabeth at teasing their mother, though there was a very dark corner of her heart where she could appreciate the joke. The purpose of waiting until that afternoon was that Mrs. Bennet would be visiting her sister Peggy as she did every Sunday after church. The two best gossips in the county kept this appointment come rain or shine. Mr. Bennet and the two eldest girls wanted to make a good first impression with their new neighbor, and the best way of doing so was to make certain Mrs. Bennet and the three youngest girls were otherwise occupied.

"Oh Mister Bennet! You have no sympathy for me and my poor nerves!" she exclaimed as they loaded into the family car. Elizabeth could see her father roll his eyes in the rearview mirror and stifled a giggle. "Now there is where you're wrong Fanny." He said in his wry voice. "I have the highest sympathy for you. You don't think you've been the only one to suffer from your nerves all these years, now do you?" Mrs. Bennet huffed in the passenger seat, clearly irritated. She was not a particularly bright lady, and had not figured out in all this time that her husband took a perverse delight in annoying her.

* * *

With Mrs. Bennet safely ensconced at her sister's house, Mary busy with her Bible study, and the Kitty and Lydia practicing their steps for the upcoming dance, the only three sensible members of the Bennet family went to deliver a welcome basket to the new family on Netherfield road. Elizabeth had always loved the old Netherfield house. It had withstood hurricane winds, Sherman's army, and fifty years ago, a considerable fire. The house itself was where the long, tree-lined road got its name. Like Longbourn it was built in a time when houses were given names, and meant something more that a block of bricks and a roof overhead.

Elizabeth was surprised by the modern furnishings and artwork that had been chosen for the house. They were obviously expensive and well made, but completely out of place in an old plantation house. She found herself missing Miss Millie's old threadbare settee, with the colorful afghan Charlotte Lucas had crocheted thrown over the back. Though Elizabeth herself thought doilies should be used in great moderation, she remembered fondly Miss Millie's exuberance for them. Miss Caroline Bingley's décor, however, was completely _sans _doily.

Miss Caroline herself was also without ruffle or frill. She was sleek and polished, and though she was polite, her tightened eyes and insincere smile did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth or her father. Mr. Bennet amused himself that the next time he visited Netherfield he would make sure to bring his wife and silliest daughters, if for no other reason than to unsettle Miss Caroline Bingley.

Mr. Charles Bingley was out inspecting the property surrounding the house, and was unable to meet his new neighbors when they brought their basket of preserves, fresh cornbread, a pot of honey from their own bees, and a bottle of cider. The Bennets sat with Miss Caroline long enough to welcome her and receive her kind thanks and praises for their gracious "country manners". Elizabeth coughed to hide a laugh. Mr. Bennet covered Elizabeth's _faux pas _by politely asking if she and her brother would be attending the Centennial festival that Saturday. She confirmed that she and Mr. Bingley would be in attendance, along with their younger sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst and her husband, along with a Mr. Will Darcy, "a close, personal friend of the family". For the next five minutes she waxed eloquent about Will Darcy, his sister Georgiana, and their great estate Pemberley.

The Bennets were somewhat familiar with Pemberley, and more so with Bell Cove Farms, which the Darcys owned. It was known to be somewhat revolutionary in that it was something of a co-op, allowing the employees to 'buy in' to the company and share in the profits as well as the decision-making, no matter their race. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth both were very interested in such a scheme for Longbourn. Though Miss Caroline had little to say on the finer points of social equality and good working conditions, and more to say on the fact that Mr. Darcy also had a townhouse in New York, a private plane (a Beech D17S), and a very lucrative business in breeding Thoroughbred horses. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Elizabeth wondered if Miss Caroline was too refined to admit to three country bumpkins that she had a beau, despite all of his accomplishments.

They soon wished Miss Caroline a good day with promises to see her at the centennial and headed back to Longbourn, Elizabeth making her father and even Jane laugh by imitating Caroline Bingley's effusions over Mr. Will Darcy. "Did I mention, Miss Eliza", Elizabeth droned in Miss Bingley's voice "that Mr. Darcy is _quite _handy at a party? Why if you run out of wine, just give him some water and he'll make more! Were you aware, my dear Miss Jane, that Mr. Will Darcy taught Fred Astaire his first steps? And did I mention, Miss Eliza, that he single-handedly liberated France? I do declare!"

"Oh Lizzie, you are truly wicked!" Jane exclaimed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Yes, dear Jane, it seems you were first in line when they handed out beauty and generosity, and I was left with nothing but sass."

"Miss Bingley seems to like Mr. Darcy very much." Jane stated, "I does make me curious to see what all the fuss is about."

"Admire him she might, but I have to say I'm already sick of the man!" Elizabeth laughed.


	5. The Wrong Foot

Will Darcy was in the very blackest of moods. Having spent three days cooped up inside Netherfield due to torrential rain ('Pourin' down Bullfrogs', his housekeeper Mrs. Reynolds would say) was bad enough, but having to carefully evade Caroline's overtures was worse. Worse still, he was being dragged to a dance by Charles. Dances were on the bottom of his list of favorite activities, just under "visit dentist". It was all very well for Charles, He who never seemed to be bothered by the matchmaking mothers and two-bit swindlers that only looked at him to see a blank check. After meeting Mr. Lucas, Meryton's mayor, and his wife yesterday Darcy had no doubt that at least one of the above offenders would be present.

Charles' obvious interest in Mr. Lucas' description of the Bennet girls of Longbourn farm did not go unnoticed by Darcy either. Mrs. Lucas had not been so forthcoming about the Bennet girls, as she had her own unmarried daughter, Charlotte, who was already 27. Charles had already heard a decidedly vague description of the two eldest from his sister, but was charmed by their welcome basket and eager to speak to the owner of the closest working farm. He knew Bingley would need someone to help guide him through all the particulars of land ownership, and Darcy couldn't be around forever.

The Bingley's grandfather had made the family fortune in Timber. Their company had weathered the Great Depression, barely, and Charles' father had slowly built the business back up. It was Charles, however, that had branched out into contracting and construction. Now that the war was over there was a boom in building, the Bingley fortunes expanded considerably. Just that year Bingley's company had just been granted a government contract to build new barracks and military housing on eleven different military bases up and down the southern east coast. This was the reason for his choosing Meryton to settle down in. It was central enough that he could oversee any of the installations he needed to relatively quickly, and was about a day's drive from Washington D.C.

Darcy also encouraged Charles to do something with the large parcel of land that came with Netherfield. The fields had been left to fallow long enough, and with a little work would be ready for planting. It was Darcy's idea that Charles seek out Mr. Bennet, because even though Longbourn was nothing to Pemberley, it was by all means not unheard of. Now hearing that there were five unmarried, and if Mr. Lucas was to be believed, charming and attractive Bennet daughters, Darcy began to question his logic. He knew that Charles was easily distracted by a pretty face, and Darcy doubted he would be thinking about peanuts and soybeans.

The dance hall was as bad as he expected. Crowded, crude and uncomfortably hot. Darcy wanted to loosen his tie and take off his jacket the moment he walked in. Their timing was, he noted, impeccable in the worst way. They'd walked in right as one song ended, and all eyes stopped and turned their way before the next one started. The scrutiny they were enduring now was exactly the sort of thing Darcy hated. Who were these people to examine him?

Charles, on the other hand, excelled at social graces. Though he had a keen business sense and was a bulldog at negotiations, he had such an easy, open personality that people liked him wherever he went. Mayor Lucas, along with his wife and two daughters, made his way over to them and shook hands with everyone. He introduced his daughters, Charlotte and Maria, to them and Charles, ever the diplomat, asked Charlotte for the next dance. Darcy barely had time to throw him a dark look before he walked out on the dance floor with Miss Lucas. The others soon followed (Caroline with Mayor Lucas) and Darcy was left to stand around uncomfortably.

A low, feminine laugh caught his attention. Seated nearby to his left was an older man who glanced at him with a sardonic eye and a young lady who was inclining her head in the older man's direction as he spoke over the music. She was not looking directly at him, but he got the impression that the two had just been having a laugh at his expense. He stiffened visibly and began walking in the other direction, slowly. He didn't want to give the impression of running away, but certainly wasn't going to stand around and be fodder for a joke. He did admit that the band was at least tolerable; playing the standards he liked to listen to himself.

Charles made his way back over to Darcy, having left Caroline beset by the town matrons who cooed and fawned over her expensive dress. "What do you think, Darcy?" Charles asked him with a tilt of his head towards the rest of the room. Darcy sniffed and said, "I think you're fair game, Charles. At least that's what the mothers of the town's unmarried girls seem to have decided, judging from the looks you've been getting since we got here." Charles snorted a laugh just before Mayor Lucas approached them, with all six of Bennet ladies in tow. The introductions were made, though apart from the mother, who was still good-looking but rather absurd, and the eldest girl, who was very pretty, Darcy barely paid attention.

Charles wasted no time asking the eldest girl, Jane, to dance. She smiled gently and accepted, leaving Darcy alone with the other Bennet women. The mother was praising his friend with enthusiasm, and hinting that maybe Mr. Darcy might like to dance with one of his other daughters. It was then that he noticed the girl who had been laughing at him standing among them. She was looking at him with obvious amusement in her eyes, and a small, puzzling half-smile. His natural response was to stare her down coldly; hoping it would make her drop her eyes or, even better, go away. He was somewhat taken aback when not only did she not leave, but now looked even more amused, arching one neat eyebrow at him.

_What the hell, _he wondered, _is so damned funny_, _you saucy little skirt?_

To make matters even worse, Caroline approached and wound her arm through his, practically draping herself across the side of his body. Darcy tried to remove her arm tactfully, but there was nothing he could do short of inching away to put more space between them. He was even more provoked to see the minx now smiling openly, clearly pleased with herself and enjoying his discomfort. "Miss Caroline!" she exclaimed brightly, "So _this _is the great Mr. Darcy I've heard so much about!" She didn't even give Caroline a chance to respond before turning to Darcy and, with an exaggerated curtsy said, "I assure you sir, you do _not_ disappoint! I won't despair for lack of wine tonight; we have plenty of water at hand!" Turning to Caroline, "Well Done, Madam!" With that puzzling statement she strode off to and began an animated conversation with Charlotte Lucas.

Caroline's face was now an alarming shade of red that clashed badly with her orange hair, creating a nauseating visual effect. Darcy was unsure as to what just happened, and couldn't decide between being angry with the girl or laughing at her obviously getting one over on Caroline. Never one to miss an opportunity, he extricated himself from Caroline and went over to the refreshment table to get a glass of sweet iced tea. He needed a moment alone, and weighed the option of sitting in the car for the rest of the night against how angry Charles would be the next day.

He saw Charles on the dance floor, still, dancing with Jane Bennet, _still. _Darcy shook his head and was about to walk out when the song ended and Charles, after leading Jane over to her mother, came to talk to him.

"Darcy! What pathetic excuse could you possibly have for not dancing tonight? You can't just stalk around the room like some bluenose frowning at everyone, I have to live here you know!"

"Charles, please." Darcy scoffed. Charles either didn't hear or chose to ignore him.

"I don't remember the last time I've seen so many pretty girls!" he said with enthusiasm.

"_You've_ dancing with the only pretty girl in the room." Darcy said dryly.

"Darcy," Charles leaned in as if he were going to whisper, but didn't lower his voice in the slightest. "She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen…" Charles trailed off, looking at Jane Bennet dreamily. He seemed to regain his senses for a moment and looked at his friend sharply "You know her sister Elizabeth is also very pretty, you should ask her to dance, if you can stop frightening villagers long enough."

"Which one of the Bennet brood do you mean?" he asked insolently. Charles inclined his head to Darcy's right. Darcy glanced to where Charles had indicated. _The Skirt!_

It was the girl with the laughing eyes and verbal non-sequiturs. She was looking out at the dance floor, even though it was empty as the band was taking a break. She seemed to be looking at the ceiling, the walls, anywhere that was not in their direction. He took a brief moment to judge her appearance. She wasn't tall or short, and had a light figure. Her print dress showed her curves to advantage, and he noticed she had nice legs. Her hair was either a deep auburn or chestnut brown. It was fashioned into two braids that circled her head like a crown. He admired the graceful line of her neck. All in all, he thought she _was_ quite pretty. However, he felt that he'd been insulted in some way by her and saw her as unworthy of another moment's notice. He turned back to Charles.

"Not bad I suppose, but not really up to _my_ standards." Charles looked at him incredulously. Fed up with all of it, Darcy snapped "Why don't you go back to your partner, enjoy her smiles. You're wasting your time with me."

"So it would seem." Charles retorted, and Darcy instantly felt a pang for his short temper. He wanted to apologize, but Charles was already walking over to Jane, shaking his head. Darcy huffed at how badly this night was turning out. Mentally he cursed himself for his temper, Caroline for her audacity, Jane Bennet for distracting Charles, Charles for dragging him to this god-forsaken dance, and Elizabeth Bennet for being an impudent little piece.

A burst of laughter from the corner of the room distracted him from his internal rant, and he looked over at the sound. Elizabeth Bennet stood with Charlotte Lucas, one of her other sisters and another young lady he didn't know. She was laughing openly at some great joke, while the other girls wore expressions that ranged from amused to outraged. Charlotte actually grabbed Elizabeth's arm and said "Lizzy, no!" in a scandalized voice. Something he couldn't identify crossed over Elizabeth's face for a moment before she began laughing again. He noticed the way laughter made her eyes sparkle. He noticed the low, pleasing sound of her laughter. "I promise, it's true!" she exclaimed, still laughing. He was surprised to see her glance in his direction briefly. Her eyes hardened like steel for a moment, then she turned her back to him to continue entertaining her friends.

Darcy felt like he was missing something obvious. Frustrated, he once again thought about going to sit outside for the rest of the dance. He settled instead for sitting at an empty table, seeming preoccupied with his glass of tea. Looking up he was surprised to see the older man who had been laughing with Elizabeth Bennet when he walked in that evening. The man had a merry light in his eye when he said, "You see, Mr. Darcy, My Lizzie can take it as good as she gives. Though I'm sorry to say you have terrible taste if she's not up to _your_ standards."

Shocked, Darcy sat straight up and looked at the man. "Mr. Bennet?" he said. The older man smiled and put his hand out. Darcy took the man's hand and gave it the briefest of shakes. "It's Tom." Darcy nodded. "Will Darcy. I…I was actually going to try to meet with you, if not tonight then maybe one day this weekend. My friend…" he trailed off. Darcy was on unsure footing. He wanted to talk business with this man, but how could he do that when he'd been caught openly insulting the man's daughter?

"Yes, my other daughter has already introduced me to Mr. Bingley. He mentioned wanting to talk shop, but I asked him to come by on Monday with you. I get the feeling he wouldn't pay attention if we tried to talk about crop rotation tonight, don't you?" Darcy looked over at Charles, who seemed to only have eyes for the lovely Jane. He nodded at Tom Bennet. "Yes sir" he managed to croak out. Mr. Bennet's chuckled at the young man's discomfort. "Not _sir_, just Tom. You don't have to _sir _me just because I overheard you insulting my favorite daughter. I'm not a fool, Mr. Darcy. I know her tongue is sharper than her tact sometimes." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "It wasn't actually _you_ she was making sport of, but she shouldn't have done it in public nonetheless."

Darcy thought for a moment before realizing who had actually been the butt of her joke. _Caroline, of course. No doubt the Bennets got an earful about townhouses and private planes. _Realizing this, the annoyance he felt earlier took on a lighter, more playful hue. He grunted a laugh at Elizabeth's quick wit. _A clever one, too! _For a second he felt an old memory tugging on his mind, he shook his head to focus on the problem at hand.

He turned to Mr. Bennet, "I should apologize. It would be an understatement to say my temper has been short today." He looked lost for a moment. "I apologize". He added miserably. Tom Bennet leaned back in his chair and seemed to measure him up for a moment, and Darcy could already tell that the bewildering Elizabeth had at gotten that evaluating stare from her father. Finally, the older man put the chair evenly on the floor and leaned in towards Darcy.

"Well now." He started. "I accept your apology sir, for my part, but I really don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to."

Darcy sat up, ramrod-straight in his chair. Ice tea slopped out of his glass and starting soaking in to the cuff of his shirt. He didn't even notice. "Good God!" He turned to the other man "You think she _heard_ me?" Mr. Bennet smiled at Darcy with the patience of a saint, or of a man who has lived with six women for the last fifteen years, which in the end boils down to the same thing. He scanned the room, looking for Elizabeth.

He spotted her standing near the stage where the band (Darcy now saw it was an Army band) were all coming back and picking up their instruments. Mayor Lucas was on stage, toying with the microphone, tapping it until the whole room could hear. Darcy looked over at Mr. Bennet and said, "I'll do that sir...er, Tom. Right now." Mr. Bennet looked like he was about to say something for a second, then thought the better of it and said with an amused twinkle in his eye "Off you go then, Son."

Darcy was embarrassed that the girl had overheard his tactless remark, and was determined to apologize and then spend the rest of the evening sitting in the car, or outside, or anywhere other than where he was. _Would the moon be far enough away?_ He had done enough damage for one night, and he didn't want to make things more difficult for Charles by angering the closest neighbors and possibly most valuable resource for information.

_Are you sure that's all?_ a small, insinuating voice whispered in his mind. He looked at Elizabeth again. Trying to observe her without being obvious, he walked over to a shadowy corner where he could lean against the wall and look at her in relative privacy.

He knew his comment had been unfair when he said it, but how unfair had he been? She wasn't as beautiful as her sister Jane. She was a bit more tanned, or perhaps had a slightly darker complexion. Her features were delicate, but her true beauty was in her dark, expressive eyes. He figured a man could fall into those pools and never swim out. He'd cheerfully drown just for the privilege.

Mayor Lucas was beginning to talk into the microphone; Darcy was too preoccupied to hear half of what he said. He had just been considering the line of Elizabeth's neck when he noticed her crossing the stage, her posture confident despite the faint flush of her cheeks. More than a few people had gathered near the stage and clapped. Darcy saw Jane lean towards Charles and tell him something, directing his attention to her sister standing in front of the band. She half turned and said something to the bandleader before the music began to swell. He recognized the opening notes to 'Surrender' and he looked at Elizabeth with interest. Then she started to sing, and everything changed.


	6. Ad Libitur

_Surrender, why don't you surrender? How long can your lips live without a kiss?_

_Surrender, I beg you surrender...How long can your heart resist?_

_I'll bring you a love you can cling to, A love that won't be untrue_

_So please be tender...And darling, surrender_

_And love me...As I love you_

Darcy's feet may as well have been nailed to the floor his astonishment was so complete. He had discovered the identity of the mysterious mermaid of the Netherfield pond. He watched, mesmerized as Elizabeth's face conveyed the sweetness of the song, her rich voice swelling over the audience. Darcy wondered if she sounded different to him than anyone else in the room, because for all that everyone seemed to enjoy her song, he seemed to be the only one openly gaping. He looked around to make sure he was still hidden in the shadow by the wall. He couldn't help but remember seeing her slender body in the water, her curtain of dark hair.

Had he known that she could see him perfectly well from where she stood on stage, he would have schooled his features to a lighter expression. Elizabeth had noticed his dour look when he first walked in to the room, and hadn't been at all surprised when her father had informed her who he was. It had been obvious to her at that moment that the man would have rather have been anywhere else in the world at that moment, even if 'anywhere else' was the bottom of the ocean. Her laugh had caught his attention; and before she could apologize for her bad manners he threw her such a haughty look any impartial goodwill she might have felt flew out the window. Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley, she thought, we perfect for one another.

Of course by the time she saw Caroline trying to wrap herself around him bodily, it was obvious he did not feel the same. This, Elizabeth realized, was even funnier. That Caroline's obvious eagerness was so one-sided was too good an opportunity for Elizabeth to tease both of them in one graceful swoop. Of course her handiwork had only backfired on her when she heard him disparage her looks a few minutes later.

Elizabeth wasn't insensible to her appearance. She knew that, while most people thought she was pleasant or even pretty, she would never be as beautiful as Jane. This realization came at an early enough age that she was able to put less stock in her appearance and relied more on her wit to help her distinguish herself. Of course, those who found themselves on the other side of her teasing likely wished she had spent more time on her hair and makeup. She wasn't hurt that Mr. Darcy had criticized her looks; she didn't care enough about him for it to matter. She was, however, embarrassed that he had done so to Mr. Bingley, who seemed kind, and well on his way to falling in love with Jane.

As she sang through the well-rehearsed song, she looked out into the room and saw Mr. Darcy leaning against the wall by himself, glaring at her. She turned her eyes from him after a moment. She had been practicing this song for weeks, and she wasn't going to let this rude, sour man spoil it. _Make hay while the sun shines, _she told herself. She resolved to ignore Mr. Darcy, determined to never spare the man another thought.

The two eldest Bennet girls had a chance later that night to sit and converse with the Netherfield party. Elizabeth was pleased to discover that Mr. Bingley was nothing like his sisters. He was congenial and unpretentious and obviously admired Jane. Caroline, and to a lesser extent Louisa were spoiled, self-important and condescending. Mr. Hurst she pegged within five minutes as a dullard, Mr. Darcy she chose to ignore. This was easier said than done as she caught him leveling his haughty look at her several times in that hour. Once she was puzzled to even see him flush red, as if he were out of breath. Even stranger, she was beginning to think that he looked familiar, somehow. There was something in the shape of his mouth, the line of his profile that was trying to call something from her memory, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She knew there was a possibility that they would be forced in to each others company in the near future, and was determined not to allow his grim solemnity scare her. Mr. Bingley wanted to ask Mr. Bennet's advice on hiring a foreman to manage Netherfield's 300 acres, and with Mr. Darcy would be taking a tour of Longbourn's operation. She could at least set aside her distaste for the tall, glowering man long enough to show that there were things in life more important that a joke, no matter how good the joke might be.

Darcy himself had suggested that Charles ask the eldest Bennet girls to sit at their table. He was sure that Charles could keep Jane occupied long enough for Darcy to apologize to Elizabeth. The sooner he could do that, the sooner he could put this whole damned night behind him. What he hadn't been counting on was that Caroline would not see four people at the table, but rather two couples. She had all but dragged Louisa and Hurst over and taken a seat as close to Darcy as she could get without actually being in his lap. While this had amused Elizabeth to no end, it had done nothing to improve Darcy's mood.

He refused to vocalize his apology anywhere close to Charles, who would jump to the wrong conclusion, or Caroline, who would increase her addresses past the point of decency. He considered asking Elizabeth to dance and apologizing then, but he highly doubted she'd agree to dance with him. _I certainly dug myself into a hole this time. _Even worse, Mrs. Bennet and the two youngest girls had found their way over to the table. While the girls could do nothing but talk about soldiers, at length and very loudly, Mrs. Bennet fawned over Charles, extolling the beauty and virtue of her eldest daughter. Jane and Elizabeth, much to their credit tried to calm their sisters and soften their mother. Elizabeth, Darcy noticed, looked caught between amusement, embarrassment and anger. Her eyes glittered and sparked. After a moment, he didn't even notice the mother.

Inspiration struck when the next song began. Darcy turned to Jane Bennet and asked "Miss Bennet, would you care to dance? That is if Charles could spare you for a song?" Everyone at the table looked at him as if he'd just sprouted horns and a tail. Jane flushed and said "Of course, Mr. Darcy". Charles eyed Darcy warily as he stood up to lead Jane to the dance floor. He immediately turned to Elizabeth and said, "Should we put them all to shame, Miss Lizzie?" Darcy saw Elizabeth smile warmly and openly, his jaw flexed involuntarily. She stood up to take Charles' hand and said, "It would never do for me to put Jane to shame, Mr. Bingley, but I will make an effort to slightly embarrass her." Darcy couldn't help but laugh at her sense of humor, and the other three joined in.

He was glad the song's quick tempo didn't afford room for conversation. He was dancing automatically, trying to figure out what he would say. _I'm sorry I insulted you to your face, and would you also forgive me for spying on you while you were practically naked three weeks ago? _He amended his apology to leave the last part off,perhaps that was the sort of thing that required flowers.

Jane Bennet, he noticed, looked frequently at Charles and her sister, who were dancing with equal skill and exuberance. His eyes followed his partner's to watch the other couple. Elizabeth's happiness could not be contained, and she laughed openly at something Charles said. Darcy marveled at a strange, sour sensation he couldn't name. When he saw Charles put his hands on Elizabeth's small waist and spin her around, he realized he felt jealous. He looked back at Jane, who had quit watching her sister and was now watching _him _watch her sister. She gave him a serene smile but said nothing.

The tempo dropped as the next song began, as Darcy had hoped, a slow dance. He took Jane's hand and led her over to Charles, who wasted no time in leading her back on to the floor. Darcy turned to Elizabeth, who was watching Charles and her sister with a warm expression. "Miss Elizabeth, would you like to dance?" he asked with a soft voice. She looked surprised by his request, and seemed to consider something for a second before giving him a curt nod of assent.

He cupped her small hand in his and he wrapped one arm around her waist for the dance. He looked down at her face; she was looking through her thick fringe of eyelashes at his left shoulder. He swallowed loudly before beginning, "Miss Bennet. Elizabeth." She looked at him warily.

"I believe I owe you an apology. Would you believe me if I said that my mind sometimes runs off with my mouth?" She smiled cautiously. She was sure he'd either realized she overheard his comment or had been told by his friend who, not wanting to offend her father or Jane, demanded that he apologize.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Darcy. Have your manners abandoned you in an ill-judged moment this evening? I believe I've been guilty of that very offense from time to time. Are you surprised then sir, to have some_thing_ in common with some_one_ so common?" Darcy smiled openly, happy that this turn of events allowed him to go from being utterly miserable to completely charmed in so short a time.

"Common? I doubt that! If you will, Elizabeth, let me apologize properly you'd realize that your point is moot."

She was caught off guard by his smile, thinking it suited his face much better than the scowl he'd been wearing for most of the evening. She had been very offended by his comment, though she'd treated it like a joke a few moments later. Was his apology sincere? What had changed in a few short hours? If he was sorry about what he'd said, why had he continued throwing occasional glares at her all evening?

"As I was saying, sometimes my mind runs off with my mouth. I'm afraid it's been a…trying couple of days at Netherfield," he looked at her imploringly, hoping she understood his hint. She glanced over to where Caroline was dancing with Hurst before arching an eyebrow at him. "And I'm sorry to say I've never been one to impress a room full of strangers."

Elizabeth laughed. "I find it hard to believe the great, handsome, worldly, Cambridge-Educated Master of Industry, this man without fault, is not one to impress a stranger!" He once again gave her that open, disarming smile that made him look a few years younger and a good deal more pleasant.

"You think I'm Handsome?"

_Damn._

She'd been teasing him some and Caroline a lot, only to have it turned around on her. She studied Mr. Darcy's face; it was obvious he seemed genuinely pleased. _Maybe this Mr. Darcy improves once you get to know him._ She ducked her head at him, "A hit acknowledged." She said with mock chagrin.

He had to admit that here was a unique, complex, fascinating young woman who had twice used a song to put a spell on him. He fought the urge to crush her body against his and kiss the smirk off of her face, or run like hell, or both. His thoughts turned involuntarily to the image of her in the lake. With that picture in his mind, and her warm young body right in front of him, and her smell of soap, jasmine and salt drifting up at him it was all he could do not to scoop her up and take her against the wall right then and there. _I'll show you a man without fault, Elizabeth!_

As it was, he might have held her waist a little tighter, he might have leaned in a little too close, his voice may have been a little too low when he said, "Sometimes, when I'm uncomfortable, or nervous, I might say things that aren't true. I've heard that the best defense is a good offense. What I said was wrong, and I'm now convinced was the most absurd lie." He heard her sharp intake of breath; she looked surprised and not a little confused.

Elizabeth desperately wished she could hide the blush that covered her face and neck, not wanting Darcy to see how his words affected her. She wanted to go back to teasing him, not being familiar with this new, intimate territory. Elizabeth was more mortified to feel a strange rush of heat behind her ears, on the insides of her elbows and the backs of her knees. She only felt relief when the song ended and he walked her off the floor. She wanted to go hide in her mother's skirts like a toddler afraid of the thunder. Cursing herself for a fool, she allowed him to get her a cup of lemonade while she sat down with Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Absorbed in her own thoughts, Elizabeth did not notice Caroline Bingley's eyes shooting daggers in her direction, or the way furious way she whispered in Mrs. Hurst's ear. Neither did she see, from an entirely different table, her father's thoughtful stare. Mr. Bennet prided himself on being an observer of humanity, and at first he found Mr. Darcy's reaction to his favorite daughter amusing. Now he was not so amused, but neither was he alarmed. Elizabeth, being young and inexperienced, had interpreted Mr. Darcy's dark looks as rude and challenging. Mr. Bennet recognized them for something different altogether. He was, of course, wary for Elizabeth's sake. He would never allow her to be treated as a plaything, no matter how many millions the man had. But that had not been his general impression of Darcy either, and he reluctantly decided to let things play out a bit. He would, however, be keeping a much closer eye on both parties.


	7. Enquiries

Two days later found Elizabeth picking vegetables and tending her garden when her father approached her with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, both of who seem surprised to be there. She was no less surprised herself, and for a fleeting moment wished she was wearing something other than dirt-splattered dungarees and one of her father's old shirts. "Lizzie, what was that idea you had about Mr. Bingley's north fields?" her father asked. Elizabeth stood up, balancing her basket on her hip. She saw Mr. Darcy's eyes widen slightly as she did this but chose to ignore him, instead looked at her father with a puzzled expression. She had just talked about this with him that very morning, had he already forgotten?

She turned to Mr. Bingley. "I was just thinking you'd do better Mr. Bingley if you were to put Sourghum in the north fields since they're more elevated. Your ground dries out quicker there, but Sourghum does better in dry soil." If she had looked at Mr. Darcy and seen how surprised he looked, she might have been insulted. Mr. Bingley, also very surprised, sputtered that he would bring it up to his foreman, when he got around to hiring one. "I'm afraid Miss Lizzie that I don't know the first thing plants or soil, I usually leave that to Darcy here. But It's good to know that there is a much more _pleasant_ way to have my questions answered now." Mr. Darcy scowled at his friend, much to the amusement of everyone else.

"Mr. Bingley if you are considering a foreman, can I make a suggestion?" Elizabeth said.

"By all means, that's why we're here." Elizabeth turned to her father. "Papa, I heard that Charlotte's older brother John Lucas is back from Japan. He worked half his life at Netherfield under Eli McCutcheon, and he went to Clemson. Nobody knows those fields better than he does."

Mr. Bennet nodded thoughtfully, and then favored his daughter with a wry smile. "I agree, Lizzie. In fact, I said as much to Mr. Bingley about an hour ago."

"And you let me carry on? Papa!" she swatted her father's arm, almost dropping her basket in the process. Mr. Darcy stepped and took it from her. "I can carry this in for you, if you like Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth knew he was being polite in front of her father, though he looked at her so seriously. She couldn't help the flash of warmth assaulted her neck and face, and tried to play it off with a smile. _Who better to laugh at, _she thought, _than myself for acting like a goose?_ She looked at the man who stood there so sternly holding her basket of peas and allowed herself the humor of the situation. She smiled mischievously at him, her eyes dancing with mirth.

"You're welcome to _hold_ my basket, Mr. Darcy. But I'd ask you not to _carry_ it anywhere until I'm finished picking peas." Mr. Bingley's eyes popped open wide before he started laughing, great loud guffaws that greatly amused everyone else. Everyone, that is instead of Mr. Darcy, who still stood holding Elizabeth's basket of peas looking confused as to what just happened. He looked at Elizabeth, and his lost expression reminded her so much of a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar that she smiled even wider. "Mr. Darcy, we have saying out here, 'Either Fish or cut bait'. Now try to keep up with me."

It felt so easy, so natural to smile at her. He'd tried to stay aloof, not show her any undue attention. It was his intention to be back at Pemberley in less than a month, and he realized that flirting with the local farmers daughters (no matter how good they looked while swimming) would do him no credit. It had been about ten minutes into his conversation with Mr. Bennet when he realized it was much more complicated than that. Mr. Bennet had asked him some pointed questions about Bell Cove farms. He was surprised when Mr. Bennet began taking notes.

"Let me just jot that down, Mr. Darcy. I know Lizzie pestered me this morning to remember to ask you about that."

The older man must have looked up in time to see Mr. Darcy's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Oh my Lizzie is bound and determined to run this farm one day, college degree be damned." He shook his head and went back to his notes. "I humor her, of course, because she is my favorite. Exactly the reason I want _better_ for her, you understand." Mr. Darcy, at a loss for something to say, pretended to dust something off the cuff of his shirt. He did not notice Mr. Bennet's glance in his direction.

And now he stood in the garden with her, holding her basket while she picked peas. Charles had gone back to the house with Mr. Bennet under pretense of having a glass of lemonade, but Darcy knew he went in the hopes of seeing Jane Bennet, whose virtues had been extolled at length since the dance. Darcy watched as Elizabeth picked peas, or rather he watched her small hands as they skillfully snapped off the pods with the ease of use. It was almost choreographed the way she put her hand out behind her and dropped the pods in the basket without looking, he met her hand every time. Bent to her work, she didn't speak, and he decided to break the silence first.

"Can I help you with that, Miss Elizabeth?" Without looking up she said, "And muss that fine crease? How could I live with myself, Mr. Darcy? No, if you don't mind your current employment, this'll be but a moment's work." He shook his head, surprised to find himself enjoying her teasing barbs. Something else occurred to him and he broke the silence again.

"May I ask you a question?"

"You may."

"Your father mentioned you went to college."

"That, Mr. Darcy, was not a question, as any college-educated lady could tell you."

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. I was going to ask what you studied."

Elizabeth stood up at looked at him for a moment. "I think that was the last of the peas. And if you don't mind carrying your burden for a few more moments, I'll reward you with a bottle of beer from the icebox." He figured this was all the answer he was to get and followed her up to he house in silence. When they got to the porch she turned to him with an unreadable expression and took the basket from him.

"If you'll just wait here, I'll be back in two shakes." She went in to the kitchen and came back a few moments later carrying two amber-brown bottles in one hand, and a small bundle wrapped in a kitchen towel in the other. She handed him one of the bottles and inclined her head toward the arbor they'd just come from. "Would you like to sit under the pecan tree with your beer? It's cooler than this porch. Besides, my two younger sisters will be out in a minute to shell the peas, and there will be no quiet to be had." He nodded mutely and followed her out. He admired her smooth, graceful walk and her long, simple braid of chestnut hair. They soon came upon the large pecan tree, where he could see a wooden bench large enough for two near the base of the tree and a swing hanging from it's branches.

Elizabeth motioned him to the bench and sat on the swing facing him. She put the bundle in her lap and unwrapped it, revealing two large fuzzy peaches. Smiling, she held the larger of the two out to him. She didn't notice the slight tremble of his arm as he reached out and plucked it from her outstretched hand. She smiled again and took a sip of her beer before biting into her own peach. He waited a moment before doing the same, savoring the sweet taste of the fruit, the punch of the cold yeasty beer, and the lovely girl in front of him.

When she had eaten her fruit down to the pit she took another sip of her beer and began to answered his question.

"Literature." He looked at her, puzzled.

"What I studied."

"I see." was all he said. He looked at the ground, thoughtful. Elizabeth took a moment to look at the man, as she'd been unable to do at the dance. Though he was sitting down, she knew he was tall, over six feet. His hair was dark, not black but a deep brown, and wavy. She supposed that if he let it grow a bit longer it would be curly. He had a heavy but clear brow over deep hazel eyes. His nose was long, but not overly so, and straight. As he brought the bottle up to drink she noticed that his mouth was full and generous. All in all, she mused, a very nice picture.

"And you think you would be happy running a farm." His words brought her out of her observation, which had turned into reverie.

"I do. I would rather have my toes in the dirt than be stuck in a classroom all day or, heaven forbid, fetching someone's coffee."

He smiled openly at this, and Elizabeth realized it was a sight she was beginning to admire. "On that point, Miss Elizabeth, we agree completely. I'm happiest when I'm at Pemberley. You know I own other businesses; one of them is Granby Mills in Columbia. Granby Mills is one of my biggest sources of income, but I think if I was forced to be there every day I'd just give up the place and the money. Like you, I'd rather have my toes in the dirt. Thankfully, Granby Mills has a good manager, and I show up a few times a year, and everybody's happy."

"You own Granby Mills?" she asked, surprised.

"I do. You've heard of it?" She nodded. "I went to Columbia College, I lived there for three years. I know that Granby is probably the largest employer in the city."

"We're lucky to have a good operation. Good work means large orders; large orders mean a large staff. Everyone benefits."

It didn't escape Elizabeth's notice that he took no credit for the prosperity of the business beyond being the name of the letterhead. It struck her how many people's welfare was in his hands. Yet he was modest, and even down to earth. She admired him more for it. She was about to say something similar (though less personal) when they heard Jane and Mr. Bingley walking towards them. "Lizzie, there you are!" Mr. Darcy stood up and offered the bench to Jane, who thanked him and sat down.

"Mama wanted to let you know that supper is in an hour, Lizzie. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy are invited to stay and eat." Mr. Bingley beamed at Jane and Darcy had no doubt that his friend had already accepted on his behalf. But Jane wasn't looking at Mr. Bingley; she was watching her sister, who was looking at someone else entirely. Jane realized that since the dance, there had been a lot of observing between her sister and Mr. Darcy. _Dear Sister,_ Jane thought, _tonight I will settle for nothing less than answers._

"Can I come in Lizzie?" Jane peeked her head in her sister's bedroom door.

"Of course, my dear." Elizabeth sat at her vanity combing her hair. Jane let herself in, careful to shut the door behind her before climbing on to the end of Elizabeth's bed and watching her sister with an expectant look in her eye. Elizabeth, smiling at Jane said, "You would think that your Mr. Bingley had never had eaten before the way he inhaled that food." Jane blushed, thinking she'd barely eaten for watching Mr. Bingley eat. She felt something different when she was near him. She wasn't sure if it was love, but it felt strange and wonderful and terribly frightening.

"He _did_ tell me that neither of his sisters ever learned to cook. They have a cook but Mr. Bingley gave her a month off to visit her daughter in Raleigh. I think he's been having to make do with Caroline's cooking for the past few weeks."

"Ah, that explains it then. I think Mama took it as a great compliment to you. Though how she figures a man stuffing eight pieces of chicken in his mouth is a compliment to a lady, I'll never understand."

"It was hardly eight pieces, but I understand your point." Jane sighed dreamily, as if stuffing his face with fried chicken was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen. Elizabeth was determined, however, to be diplomatic.

"You seem quite taken with Mr. Bingley, Jane."

"I do like him, Lizzie. Mr. Bingley is just what a man should be, intelligent, good humored, lively."

"Not to mention handsome, which a man _should _be when he can. And he was very attentive to you at the dance. By all means like him, you've liked many a stupider person."

"Oh Lizzie!" Jane shook her head and rolled her eyes at her sister in the universal gesture for _"you're impossible". _Jane continued, "And should I give _you_ leave to like someone, Sly Lizzie?"

Elizabeth was caught off guard by her sister's sudden change in tactic. "And you call _me_ sly, Jane! No, there won't be any giving of leave for now."

"Lizzie, I'm not blind. I've seen you look at Mr. Darcy and I've seen the way he looks at you. Now be honest, do you like him?"

"Jane, I only just met the man. I thought at first that he seemed to be the most arrogant, conceited toad that ever hopped in to town."

"And now? He wasn't too arrogant or conceited to ask us both to dance, although I think he might have enjoyed _your_ dance more. And after he seemed downright pleasant."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Jane, I can't quite figure him out. There are moments when he's so easy and open; I think I could enjoy spending more time with him. And then sometimes he looks at me so serious and severe, I feel like I've been caught dancing in church. I'd like to know him a little better, but I don't know how smart that would be. I mean, look at how different our lives are. He's a millionaire and we're as poor as Job's turkey."

"Now Lizzie you know we are not as poor as that!" Jane cried, but Elizabeth would not be dissuaded. "You're right Jane, but that hardly matters! It's not as if _he _is going to be living at Netherfield. He'll go back to Pemberley and I'll stay at Longbourn and that's the end of it. Maybe it's better that way."

Jane soon left her sisters room and sought out her own. She hadn't missed the disappointment in Elizabeth's voice.


	8. To Err is Caroline

Two weeks later, Elizabeth didn't know whether to be relieved or distressed when her father had to postpone another meeting with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy to continue discussing their relative farms. Since Jane's questions, Mr. Darcy had been much in her thoughts. Several times he had been a guest at Longbourn with Mr. Bingley, though on those occasions he was not as talkative as he had been that day in her garden. Mostly he kept to himself, sometimes engaging in earnest conversation with her father. Occasionally she caught him staring at her with the same thoughtful expression she had seen on his first visit.

She could admit to herself, if to no one else, that he intrigued her. He was well educated and, when he bothered to speak, an excellent conversationalist. He was polite enough, but when she thought of him she often remembered when they danced together, and the way he tightened his arm around her waist. He obviously had no patience for her mother or younger sisters, but Elizabeth couldn't really fault him for that. One night they were all gathered at the Lucas' for dinner, and her mother had exclaimed, as loud as she pleased, that she had often had that "horrid unpleasant" man in her home. Mr. Darcy had simply walked out of the room without a word, he had not seen Elizabeth's face flushed with shame. Since that evening conversations between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had gone from halting and awkward to non-existent. The change unsettled her, though she couldn't say why.

Mr. Bingley, Caroline, Mr. Darcy and The Hursts had caught up with the Bennets after Sunday Services and asked if Miss Jane would like to join the ladies for supper. Mr. Bingley was required to meet with the foreman in charge of the construction at Fort Jackson in Columbia and wouldn't be back until late that evening. Mr. Darcy was going along, so that he could spend the afternoon with the Manager and Foreman at Granby Mills.

"Oh Miss Bingley, you are too kind! Our Jane would surely love to join you! She is _such_ good company!" Elizabeth blushed furiously as her mother began clucking over Jane, noticing the smirks Miss Caroline and her sister exchanged. Mortified, she glanced up briefly in Mr. Darcy's direction. He didn't seem to notice her mother, but was looking at Elizabeth almost absentmindedly. Again she was struck by a nagging sense of familiarity, but as before couldn't place it.

Darcy only wished he was absentminded that morning, rather than looking at the way the sun shining through Elizabeth's hair made it red in some places, gold in others. The light glinted off the sliver chain around her neck. He felt foolish and was glad of the excuse to get out of the Meryton for an afternoon. He always looked forward to visiting Columbia, though he tended to prefer the country, there was an honesty in the city's industrious bustle that he appreciated.

His other reason for wanting to go, besides his business at Granby Mills, was to put some distance between himself and two certain ladies. Since his obvious notice of Elizabeth at the dance, Caroline seemed to redouble her efforts, and Darcy thought he was going to have to start locking his door at night. Caroline had wasted no time in enumerating the differences of a 'poor country girl' like Elizabeth Bennet and someone more 'refined and educated'. Darcy did not bother to tell Caroline that Elizabeth in fact had a fine education and rather _chose_ to live on a farm.

He looked at both of them now, standing on the church steps. Yes, there were many differences between the two. Caroline's plum colored dress was expensive and fine, her light hair was smoothly coiffed and she seemed to pose, rather than simply stand. In comparison, Elizabeth's dress was plain, but well made linen the color of buttercups. Her auburn hair was tied back with a simple white ribbon and she moved with a natural grace and liveliness that could not be imitated.

He knew he'd rather die a bachelor than be saddled with a society woman like Caroline Bingley. Caroline, he noted, only looked at a person to see their income. Darcy wanted more for himself. His parents had been devoted to one another, and Darcy would settle for nothing less. He wanted to be seen not for his income, but for his _worth. _What did Elizabeth Bennet see, he wondered, when she looked at him?

Darcy was anxious to be off that morning, so he might think more about this puzzle that was Elizabeth Bennet. _Did_ he want to know her better? At the dance he'd been ready to any number of things, but he suspected that his interest in the girl went beyond his own desires. She had a keen mind, and he could see she had a good heart as well. Her affection for her family and friends made her goodness shine through. She seemed to honestly care for the future of their farm and the welfare of the people in their employ. She was good an honest, witty and intelligent, vital and lovely, and completely unaffected. She was ideal, and yet he didn't for a second consider that there could be anything serious between them. _Don't you? _That small voice in the back of his mind asked. He watched the breeze play with her curls, and wondered.

Later that day Jane found herself in the unfortunate position of having to eat Caroline Bingley's cooking, and soon understood Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy's fondness for her mother's fried chicken. Caroline and Louisa hardly touched their food, claiming to still be full from a large breakfast. Jane forced herself to eat a piece of ham, which tasted rather strange, a small helping of what she assumed was supposed to be hoppin' John, and a small, hard biscuit. After their "meal" the ladies asked Jane to stay for cribbage, to which she readily agreed.

It was halfway through the second hand when Jane felt a cold sweat break out on her arms, neck and shoulders and her body became wracked with shudders.

"Dear Jane, are you alright?" Mrs. Hurst exclaimed, finally noticing that their guest was suddenly looking rather green.

"I…I…" Jane tried to get up and run from the room, praying to at least make it to the front door. Her prayers were not be answered that day, and she could only reply to Mrs. Hurst by violently retching up everything she'd eaten that day, and she suspected a few things she hadn't.

_Poor Charles. Poor Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. How_ _has she not killed someone yet with her cooking?_ Jane thought, just before she lost consciousness.

"Lizzie, may I come in?" Elizabeth looked up from her book, surprised to hear her father at her door.

"Of course Papa, is anything wrong?" Mr. Bennet let himself in and closed the door behind him. His expression was both amused and worried.

"I've just gotten a call from Doc Jones. Sister Jane took ill at Netherfield and can't be moved yet."

"Jane sick? How!" Elizabeth demanded.

"Bad Ham, looks like." Mr. Bennet couldn't repress a chuckle, and Elizabeth shook her head at her father's amusement.

"Papa, be serious! What did Dr. Jones say? And she's stuck there with no one to look after her except The Superior Sisters!"

"Well that's exactly what I came to talk to you about. Doc said the poor thing's been asking for you, she says no one else will do. Mr. Bingley is all but begging you to come look after her."

"Of course I'll go Papa, let me get a few things together."

Mr. Bennet hesitated for a moment. He wanted to say something regarding Mr. Darcy, but didn't want Elizabeth to misunderstand his meaning. Mr. Darcy's long, silent gazes at his daughter had not gone unnoticed by Mr. Bennet, and he wanted to know when the young man was going to come to the point already. He didn't think that Mr. Darcy would do anything untoward, especially in his friend's house and with her sick sister under the same roof. He decided that Elizabeth could most likely handle herself in any case, and instead offered to drive her over to Netherfield.

"No, Papa I'll walk over. Now that the rain has stopped I feel like I need some time out of doors."

"Very well, Child. Call us if Jane gets worse."

"I will, father."

Elizabeth loved the way everything smelled after a good rain. The grass, the trees, even the dirt all smelled lovely on that fall afternoon as she set out on the path through the wood from Longbourn to Netherfield. She walked briskly, eager to get to Jane, but still reluctant to go inside in such glorious weather. The temperature had finally broken with the last storm and the more moderate fall breezes made everything feel fresh. She stopped occasionally to touch the trunk of a favorite tree, or pick up a particularly pretty stone with flecks of mica that glittered in the sunlight.

After two miles of climbing hills and hopping over puddles, she arrived at Netherfield house with muddy shoes, tired feet and a glowing pink cheeks. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had only been back for a little over an hour, having completed their business in Columbia with satisfaction. He and Bingley were shocked when they got back to find Jane Bennet so sick, and both were glad Darcy had thought to bring back lots of cold meats, cheeses, breads, and fruits. Louisa seemed genuinely concerned for Jane, and Caroline actually seemed angry that the girl had the nerve to get food poisoning in their house.

Mr. Bingley barely restrained from throttling his troublesome sister when he learned that not only was Jane sick as a result of Caroline's "skill" in the kitchen, but that no one had even bothered to phone the doctor. Dr. Jones was summoned and declared that Jane did look to have food poisoning. He left some medicine and said she would have to be watched carefully. Seeing the look of panic on Louisa's face and the angry set of Caroline's jaw, Dr. Jones sighed heavily and asked to use the Bingley's phone.

Mr. Darcy was going over some paperwork his manager at the Mill had given him, and was actually contemplating cutting his trip short and going back to Pemberley in the next few days, when Elizabeth's sudden appearance in the room claimed his every attention. Her hair cascaded in loose, messy waves around her shoulders. She had removed her muddy shoes on the porch but could not cover the splashes of dirt on her hem. Darcy noticed that her eyes shone brighter than he'd ever seen them, and he couldn't form a complete thought for a full minute.

"Miss Lizzie!" Mr. Bingley bounded up and led Elizabeth to the sofa.

"I came to check on my sister, Mr. Bingley."

Hearing the strain in her voice, Darcy decided to make himself useful and got up to get her a glass of water. He came back and handed her the glass wordlessly. Taking a sip of water, she looked up at him with her dark eyes soft with gratitude. He felt himself melt under her gaze. Silently he begged her to look away.

_For heaven's sake, get a grip! You're acting like a bigger girl than Georgiana!_ Thankfully, she did turn away when Caroline addressed her. "Miss Eliza, did you _walk _all this way?" Darcy clenched his jaw and walked over to the window. He didn't think Caroline Bingley would want to see his face at that moment.

"I surely did, Miss Bingley." She said with perfect alacrity. Deciding not to give Caroline another moment's notice she turned to Mr. Bingley and asked if he could show her to her sister.

"Only if you promise to stop calling me 'Mr. Bingley' and call me 'Charles' instead. Or, if you like, Charlie." Elizabeth smiled and said "Thank you, Charles."

Darcy was glad that Charles went out of his way to put Elizabeth at ease. He often wondered how his friend could come from the same family as Caroline and Louisa. Charles would never speak badly of a young lady, especially one that had walked three miles in mud to nurse her sister. For the first time, Darcy thought that if Georgiana had someone like that in her life, he would feel very lucky indeed.

Almost from the moment Charles and Elizabeth were out of earshot, Caroline and Louisa wasted no time in sniping on the appearance of their newest guest.

"Did you _ever_ see such a sight Caroline?" Louisa fluttered.

"I could hardly keep a straight face! What does she think she's doing scampering about the countryside like a field mouse? In all my life I've never seen such a tangle of hair, she looked almost savage!"

Darcy stalked out of the room without a word. It sickened him that a woman like Caroline moved in greater society, and had the advantages of wealth but none of the graces that should come with it, while a far superior woman like Elizabeth would never be more to some than a farmer's daughter. He ducked in to his room long enough for Charles to pass. Darcy wasn't up for conversation at the moment. Once he was sure he could hear Charles talking with Caroline in the other room, he crept back in to the hallway and silently approached the door to Jane's room. He could hear nothing coming from inside except the occasional groan.

He was suddenly arrested by the sound of a low hum, a tune he didn't recognize. The sound was comforting and bittersweet all at the same time. He leaned with his back against the wall next to the door and closed his eyes. It disturbed him how easily he could see a life, a future with this woman. In his perfect daydream, he lay with his head in her lap, and she hummed as she stroked his head, running her fingers through his hair, occasionally leaning over to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead, his cheek, his mouth. He stayed like that, his forehead resting against the door, for some time before joining the others.

It was past dinnertime when Mr. Bingley knocked on the door to Jane's room. Elizabeth stepped out into the hallway so as not to disturb Jane's rest. Mr. Bingley noticed that she seemed tired and pale.

"I thought you might like to take a break, Miss Lizzie. I can sit with your sister if you'd like to get something to eat." Elizabeth gave him a playful look that he immediately comprehended. "Not to worry, Mr. Darcy and I picked up some things for supper while we were in town. No ham." Elizabeth's shoulders relaxed and she nodded.

"She's sleeping now, I think whatever Doc Jones gave her has helped settle her stomach enough to let her rest. Are you sure you won't mind?"

Mr. Bingley smiled and patted Elizabeth on the arm. "Go take a few minutes for yourself, and don't mind Caroline or Louisa." Elizabeth smiled as he tiptoed into the room. She watched as Mr. Bingley took one long, adoring look at Jane before settling down in a chair on the other side of the room. Elizabeth figured that anyone who could look at a lady like that when she was sick couldn't be all bad.

She took a moment in the bathroom to wash the smell of the sickroom off of her before going down to the dining room. She went to the sideboard and selected some cold meat, a piece of bread and an apple before sitting down and eating silently. Caroline and Louisa could be heard gossiping in the next room. Mr. Hurst snored on the sofa. Mr. Darcy sat a few seats down from her, reading the newspaper. He did not seem to notice her come in to the room or sit down and eat, and she did nothing to call his attention to her. When she bit into her apple, he folded his newspaper and looked at her.

He waited for her to finish chewing before asking, "Miss Elizabeth, how is Miss Jane?"

"She's resting now, Mr. Darcy. I believe she's a little bit better."

"I'm glad to hear it." He did not go back to his newspaper, but continued to study her in that thoughtful way she was becoming accustomed to.

"After you've eaten, would you like to take a walk and get some fresh air?" Elizabeth nearly choked on her food; she tried to cover her surprise by gulping her iced tea.

"I'd like to check on my sister first, Mr. Darcy. If she doesn't need me and if Mr. Bingley is comfortable where he is, then I would love some fresh air." He nodded, and seemed finished her meal in silence and Mr. Darcy at last went back to his paper.

When she stood up to leave, he surprised her again holding her chair out for her, before taking her plate to the kitchen with his own. This small act of domesticity struck Elizabeth as such a tender gesture, yet as a result she could not feel at ease. Her heart and her doubts pounding loudly in her ears, she quickly quit the room.


	9. Two Letters

Mr. Bingley was fine where he was. He seemed perfectly at ease to sit with some building plans, occasionally looking up to make sure Jane still slept comfortably. Elizabeth told him she was going for a very short walk, and did not mention Mr. Darcy. He nodded over his papers and made a shooing gesture with one hand. Smiling, she patted his shoulder and left.

Mr. Darcy stood just outside the door to Jane's room, and Elizabeth nearly shrieked in surprise when she almost ran into him. He chuckled at her, raised a finger to his lips and said "Shhh. Let's sneak out the back." She raised an eyebrow at him but followed without a word. Soon they were clear of the house, walking silently side by side. The sun had just gone down, and the sky was still streaked with a palette of oranges, reds, and opalescent violets. Elizabeth was admiring the sky, and Darcy was admiring Elizabeth.

"Do you see sunsets like this at Pemberley?" she asked.

He considered for a moment. "I think because of the mountains, you don't get quite so much sky. And you don't experience quite so many colors."

"You'll be going back soon, I imagine." She made an effort to sound unaffected as she said this. He seemed to look at her for a long time before turning back to the sky, which was deepening into a soft violet.

"Yes, I'll be leaving by the end of next week at the very latest. My manager can operate my business affairs indefinitely, but I like to check on the farms myself. It's also been several weeks since I've seen my sister." He couldn't disguise the affection in his voice when he mentioned his sister. It made Elizabeth curious to know more.

"What's she like, your sister?" He seemed surprised by her question, but smiled and answered. "She's like many 16 year old girls, though I suspect you'd know more about that than _I _would," he said with a laugh. She answered with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. "Yes, more than I'd care to!"

"My sister is very loving, and very sweet. She's actually quite shy around people she's never met, though she handles it better than her brother does," He looked down at Elizabeth and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"I'm sure you're aware that Charles is giving a party in a few weeks for all his new neighbors." he said, changing the subject.

Elizabeth chuckled at him. "You _do _know that I have younger sisters, don't you? Longbourn hasn't had a moment's peace since we got the invitation. The only things Kitty and Lydia seem to live for are parties and dancing." _And Soldiers_, she amended mentally.

"And Elizabeth doesn't care for parties and dancing?" His tone was teasing, but Elizabeth wasn't sure how to respond. She wasn't given the chance as he continued.

"You already know how _I _feel about them, of course. I'm afraid there's no remedy for me." He seemed to consider for a moment.

"But…I don't think dancing has as much potential for embarrassment if you already know your partner. Say…if you were to dance with someone you've already danced with before?"

Elizabeth couldn't contain a muffled snort of laughter.

"Mr. Darcy, did you just ask me to dance?"

"No, Miss Elizabeth, but I plan to."

"Are you so sure of my reply?"

"I think we can safely say that if there is _one_ thing I'm unsure of, it's what you'll say next."

"I suppose I deserve that!" She could not contain her laughter, and he was lost to it's low, bubbling sound.

They were so absorbed in their conversation that they forgot to come in through the back entrance. They were rewarded for their lapse in attention by the sight of Caroline, who had been turning the dials on the radio mercilessly, complaining noisily about not being able to find a program worth listening to, the lack of entertainment to be found in the country, and how unfair her life was in general. She visibly paled at the appearance of Elizabeth and Darcy, both of whom were obviously enjoying themselves and each other's company. Elizabeth cast Darcy and apologetic look before excusing herself to check on Jane. She could hear Caroline's complaints even after the door was safely shut behind her.

Ignoring Caroline's tirade, he poured himself a scotch and pretended to read a book. His plan had been to ignore Elizabeth Bennet, to not show her attention that might raise her expectations. And how did he proceed with his brilliant plan? By asking her to take a walk with him, alone! And asking her if she would dance with him at Charles' party! _You don't know up from down, you ignorant ass! _He mentally berated himself for the next quarter of an hour until Charles came in with a handful of envelopes.

"Darcy, I just checked the mailbox, you've got a letter here from your sister." Darcy stood up eagerly and gratefully took the envelope Charles held out to him. Yes, he knew Georgiana's fine, girlish script anywhere. He felt a stab of homesickness and again thought of shortening his visit with Charles. He weighed that against the possibility of another dance with Elizabeth Bennet, and decided to wait for now.

"Thank you Charles, excuse me." He stood up and left the room, eager to hear news from home. Once he had the privacy of his own room, he sat on the edge of the bed and tore the envelope open.

_Dear Will,_

_You are missing out on a spectacular autumn at Pemberley. Mrs. Annesley and I went to the orchards and helped with the apple picking, and now the air is sweet with the smell of cider. She is teaching me how to bake pies, and I'm happy to report that after several disastrous attempts I have been able to make something edible. A first!_

_My studies are coming along well enough, I enjoy my history lessons and Latin but I still detest geometry. I keep hearing that the lessons I learn now will be important later in life, but when in real life will I ever be required to calculate the size of a triangle? I wish you would let me drop it, but I understand why you won't, and it wouldn't be worth it to have to put up with one of your stern looks._

_Brother, I've just gotten a letter from our cousin Richard, who has good news! I'm in a mood to make you wait until you get home to tell you, as punishment for being gone so long already! But, since I love you I won't, so here it is: Richard writes that he is engaged! He will be coming to stay a few weeks with us before the two of you make your usual visit to the Old Dragon. Don't frown at me brother, you know you call her that yourself. About Richard's fiancée, he writes that her name is Claire, she is from Saint Paul, and he hopes we can accept a Northern girl in to the family as well as anyone else. What do you think brother, should we tease him for a little while first? Write soon, and tell me how Miss Caroline's conquest of you coming along._

_All My Love,_

_Georgie_

Darcy read and re-read the letter several times before letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He had been reluctant to come along with Charles down to South Carolina in the first place; as it would be the first time he'd spent a night or two away from Georgiana since her ordeal earlier in the summer. His fists tightened convulsively when he thought about Wickham. _Let that bastard come within a mile of me, _he thought. Georgiana 's good heart and her innocent naivete had been used against her, actions that had wounded her to the core of her being. If Darcy could ever repay Wickham for one-tenth of what he had done to his sister, he wouldn't hesitate. Slowly, she seemed to have gained some measure of her confidence back, and her letter sounded more like the old Georgie than she had all summer. He was grateful, relieved, and took a moment to say a prayer of thanks.

Also pleasing was Georgie's news about Richard. He hadn't seen his cousin in over six months, though they had kept in touch as much as possible. He felt great relief and joy that Richard had found someone to share his life with at last. It had been just the three of them for so long, it was exciting to think that there would soon be one more person in their family unit. Darcy was not surprised it had taken Richard as long as it had to settle down, for the last three years his cousin's standards for women had been remarkably high compared to what they had been before the war. Not unlike the qualities Darcy himself looked for in a potential wife. He wanted someone intelligent and kind, who was outgoing enough to soften his natural aloofness, someone who was well-read, interested in the world, and not afraid of a challenge. _And she should have beautiful dark eyes, a sharp wit, and sing like a lark. _He amended silently.

He shook his head and considered whether to undress for bed. It was early, but he'd rather stay holed up in his room with a book than to endure being in the same room as Caroline. But then again, there was Elizabeth. He burned with a curiosity to know everything about her; when he closed his eyes at night, she was there, with her hair spread across the pillow and her eyes sparkling with some secret that only he could unlock. _Solve me, _her eyes said in his dreams. He would wake up from these dreams with a dry mouth and a pounding in his chest. Something about her seemed to wake up some part of himself that had been sleeping all his life, and the thought terrified him as much as it enticed him. He looked over Georgiana's letter one more time before deciding he would answer her right away. He left his room without a second thought.

"I have never seen anyone write so fast."

"No, I write fairly slowly."

"How is dear Georgiana? Do tell her I asked."

"I have already said as much once."

"How on earth do you write so evenly?"

Elizabeth sat with a book, listening with increasing humor at the exchange between Caroline and Mr. Darcy. It was obvious he wanted to be left alone, but Caroline either didn't get the hint, or she refused to acknowledge it. Jane had been able to eat a little dry toast and drink some broth, and Elizabeth was hopeful that they could both go home the next day. Mr. Bingley, _Charles, _had been very kind and attentive; making sure Elizabeth got whatever she needed to help make Jane more comfortable. The Hursts generally ignored her, opting to play cards instead. Caroline remained as insincere as ever, and since Elizabeth had come back from her walk with Mr. Darcy, the woman had barely let her out of her sight.

Mr. Darcy did not acknowledge her beyond a "Miss Elizabeth" before he sat down to write a letter to his sister, and Elizabeth did not try to engage him in conversation. She doubted she could, even if she wanted to, as Caroline's running commentary on Mr. Darcy's letter writing skills discouraged all other avenues of conversation. Despite his pointed silence and abrupt answers, Caroline continued.

"Your sister really _must_ come stay with us the next time we're in D.C., it does a young lady no good to spend all her time in the country."

"We used to go to New York once a year, but Georgiana actually prefers the country to the city." Darcy looked at Elizabeth and saw that she was amused rather than offended, but he was still rankled by Caroline's bad manners.

Ignoring his last statement, Caroline continued, "There are so many advantages to being in the city over the country. I don't know how you're expected to get along out here."

_There is no way I can resist responding to that, _Elizabeth thought, _the woman won't be satisfied until she's really provoked me!_

"Exactly what do you imagine we do without here, Miss Caroline?" Elizabeth asked politely.

"I mean no offense, of course Miss Eliza" Caroline sneered, "but you have to admit that the country is lacking in Culture. It's inhabitants are typically less refined and educated."

Darcy suppressed a wince, not for what Caroline had just said, but for what he suspected Elizabeth was about to say. If the way she squared her shoulders or the defiant tilt of her head were any indication, Elizabeth was about to deliver a fierce parry. He was not disappointed.

"Oh rest assured, Miss Caroline, I don't take offense. Yours is a common enough misconception. We may not have as many museums or galleries or theaters out here. But we do have art, and culture, though it's not what you may be used to. As for refinement, we believe in good manners and taking care of our neighbors. There is more division between class and race in the cities, whereas here in our small town we all have to work together, don't we? And as far as education is concerned...well, I dare say there is ignorance to be found no matter where you go."

Mr. Darcy fought down a laugh, marveling at Elizabeth's skill. _How can I listen to this, _he thought, _and not applaud? What a woman! _Caroline, who was looking at Elizabeth with a dangerous gleam in her eyes, seemed to feel differently. Charles diffused the moment by asking his how the preparations for the party were going. A reluctant peace took over. Darcy looked over the letter he head written to his sister.

_Dear Georgie,_

_It looks like I have to remind you (again) of how inappropriate for a younger sister to talk about conquests with her much older brother. However I will tell you that Miss Caroline's efforts continue, and if possible have become more obvious than ever, I'm afraid there will be no peace for me without hurting someone's feelings. She asks me to relay a message to you; she can hardly wait to see you again, she asked about you, she was in raptures over the little table you painted for Charles. Feel free to do with that what you will._

_Charles has taken a nice property here, and there is a large amount of land that I have persuaded him to put to good use as soon as a foreman is hired. His closest neighbors are the Bennets of Longbourn Farms. Mr. Bennet is an intelligent man, and has been very helpful and accommodating to Charles._

_As I write this, two of Mr. Bennet's five (yes, five) daughters are here at Netherfield. Miss Jane Bennet is the eldest, and is considered to be a local beauty. Truly, she is very pretty and very sweet. Charles is already very taken with her. She had the unfortunate luck to get very ill while here visiting Miss Caroline and Miss Louisa. I'm not sure as to the particulars of how she got sick, only that Miss Caroline's cooking may have been involved. Her sister Elizabeth walked the two miles from Longbourn to Netherfield to look after her while she is here. I think you would like Elizabeth very much, Georgie. She is well educated, honest, unaffected, brave and incredibly clever. She has had to endure Miss Caroline's barely concealed incivility, not to mention my own bad behavior. I'm afraid I did not make a good impression to Miss Elizabeth Bennet on our first meeting, I won't go into details because then I will have to endure __your__ stern expression. Be assured I'm making efforts to show the lady that I'm not the curmudgeon she first thought I was. Now, on to pleasanter things._

_I was very, very happy to hear Richard's news. If you speak to him or write him, please ask him when he will bring Claire around so we can meet __her__ and embarrass __him._

_I will be heading home in several weeks. Charles is having a party for his new neighbors to celebrate his warm welcome to Meryton, and it's my plan to be on the road and en route to Pemberley the day after. In the meantime, dear Georgie, eat your vegetables, listen to Mrs. Annesley, study your geometry and save your big brother some apple pie._

_With Love,_

_Will_


	10. The Guest and The Stranger

Jane and Elizabeth had been back home at Longbourn for several days when Mr. Bennet announced to his family that they would have a guest for the next couple of weeks.

Mr. Bennet had inherited the Longbourn farm from his mother's father. What few in Meryton knew about Thomas Bennet was that his own father, Edmund, had been a very wealthy man. There had been some disagreement, some bad blood between the elder Mr. Bennet and his child, and so the bulk of Edmund's fortune was willed to his sister, Thomas Bennet's aunt, and her husband. Elinor Bennet Collins was married to a man who was not only small-minded and ignorant, but also cruel. Thomas Bennet tried to convince Elinor (who was only three years older than Thomas himself) to leave her husband and live with him and his new wife at Longbourn, but Elinor was content with the lot she had drawn. So all communication between Thomas and his father's relations ended.

Elinor died around the same time that Jane was born, leaving a son, William. Young William Collins was sent to live with a widow aunt. The aunt was kind to young William, and in his boyhood took such pains to win a mother's love for him by flattering and spoiling the boy past the point of all reason. The boy soon believed himself to be the center of the universe. Needless to say, there had been several attempts by schoolyard bullies to correct this character flaw, but by the time William Collins left for seminary, it was as much a part of him as the color of his eyes.

Several months into his studies at Seminary College, William Collins' father died, leaving what was left of the Bennet fortune to his son. What was left of that fortune was the Bennet mansion in Aiken (which had crumbled beyond repair), a smaller house in Camden, three horses, and an old Confederate Soldier's uniform.

William Collins had not known his father very well, and had a tendency to romanticize what he did not understand. He had convinced himself that in his last years, his father would have wanted to repair the breach between the two branches of the Bennet family (which was certainly _not _the case). Now being a minister at the Christian Missionary Alliance Church in Camden, he saw it as a God-given duty to offer the proverbial olive branch to Thomas Bennet's family. He had also heard a rumor that Mr. Bennet had five attractive daughters, most of them of a marriageable age.

So it was on a brisk November afternoon that Mr. Collins arrived in Meryton. Mr. Bennet himself arrived at the bus depot to collect his cousin, alone. He wanted to ascertain if the young man was truly harmless before bringing him into the same house as his five daughters. He found the greatest entertainment in human folly, and had high hopes that his cousin would be foolish enough to keep him entertained for the next several weeks. What he found in Mr. Collins exceeded expectations beyond even his wildest dreams. Mr. Bennet could see within five minutes that his cousin had about as much sense as a hen had teeth.

Mr. Collins, a thickset young man who dressed very severely if not very well, was full of his own self-importance, and spoke of his own accomplishments and attributes at length, occasionally with a bit of sermonizing thrown in. He had obviously used his education to learn words he felt were grand enough for describing himself. _Exalted. Elevated. Stately._ He also had a curious servility when he spoke of his ministry's principal donor (ergo the principal source of his income), Catherine deBourgh. Mr. Bennet maintained a straight face on the drive back to Longbourn, looking forward to his Lizzie's reaction to this strange cousin.

Elizabeth did not have such high hopes for being entertained by Mr. Collins. She found his lavish compliments and obsequious attentions to be unsettling rather than entertaining. While she did think that his deference to Mrs. Catherine deBourgh (or 'Lady Catherine', as Elizabeth had mentally dubbed her) was amusing, especially when he was both fawning over Lady Catherine and preaching gospel in the same sentence. She also noticed the way he seemed to measure each of the Bennet girls with his eyes, with the exception of Lydia, whose loud, boisterous behavior had offended Mr. Collins within ten minutes of his arrival at Longbourn. Jane, however was not so fortunate. At one point in the evening Mr. Collins claimed that Jane was "A dewey rose among the briars". Mr. Bennet congratulated his cousin on what seemed to be a gift for subtle compliments. Elizabeth and Mary exchanged a quick glance, an understanding between two briars.

Mrs. Bennet had resolved to outdo herself with dinner that evening. A haunch of pork was put on the pit in the morning and left to cook slowly for the rest of the day. That evening the table was laden with overflowing dishes of blackeyed peas, golden fried okra and squash, spicy stewed tomatoes, tangy collard greens with peppered vinegar, soft, crumbling wedges of cornbread, and a small mountain of rice. Like Elizabeth, it had taken Mrs. Bennet a matter of moments to see that Mr. Collins took notice of the girls.

A man who owned his own house and made a comfortable living would be a fine thing for any of her daughters, Mrs. Bennet thought, except for Jane who could do much better through Mr. Bingley. Mrs. Bennet was also relieved that her husband's cousin seemed to take no interest in Lydia, who was both too young for marriage and by far her mother's favorite child. While she did think Mr. Collins was plenty good enough for one of her _other _daughters, she wanted more for her Lydia, who was out of all five girls the most like her mother. He would do very well for Mary, or even Elizabeth. _Yes_, Mrs. Bennet thought, considering her second daughter's rebellious, headstrong nature. Marriage to a preacher would tame her spirits well enough. _Yes, that will do very well for Lizzy._

The following day, Elizabeth was left with no doubt that Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet had held a summit, and the man had been thoroughly warned away from Jane. While Elizabeth was happy that her sister was free from their cousin's absurd attentions, she had been disturbed to see that they had not disappeared, only shifted from one sister to the other. Over the next few days, she had to endure the man's enthusiasm for Lady Catherine's house (Rosings House), how many chimneys the house had (four) how many servants she had (eight), and her favorite horse (Percival), among other things.

Elizabeth had been shocked when Mr. Collins admitted that he had complimented Catherine deBourgh's daughter as having "all the superior graces of dignified birth", and that the lady had been pleased by the remark. Almost as shocking and not a little distressing were the moments in between compliments to her and Lady Catherine when Elizabeth noticed Mr. Collins eye lingering over her body in a decidedly un-cousinly way. It took all of her good manners and self-control not to box the man's ear, the way her father's foreman, Old Mr. Whitford, had taught her to do when she was barely thirteen.

It had already been a trying morning between Mr. Collins ridiculous courting and her mother's frustrating encouragement of the man.

"Mr. Collins, would you like to sit by Lizzy this morning?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Lizzy, you look very nice today. Mr. Collins, don't you think that color suits our Lizzy?"

"I agree it does! Dear Elizabeth, you look incandescent in that dress! I can't quite decide if the color is Olive or Moss, what would you call it, Dear Lizzy?"

"Green, Mr. Collins."

Blushing with mortification, Elizabeth decided she had had enough of her cousin for that day, and excused herself with the purpose of riding her bicycle into Meryton. Her mother, who was becoming frustrated with Elizabeth's coldness towards Mr. Collins, saw what she was about and said,

"Lizzy, you should take Mr. Collins with you and show him around. Wouldn't you enjoy that, Mr. Collins?"

"I would at that, my dear Elizabeth. I did see some of your quaint town on my way in, of course. Your town hall is _nearly_ as large as Rosings house, though of course not nearly so sumptuous."

Jane, taking pity on her sister, suggested that all five girls go along; as they had planned to visit the dressmaker's and the bookstore that week anyway. The rest of the Bennet girls readily agreed and Mr. Bennet allowed Jane to drive them in the car. Elizabeth was appalled when Mr. Collins sat beside her in the car, so close that he was practically pressed against her. She inched away to give him room, only to have him close the distance between them. She even went so far as to say "Sir, please.", while trying to put some space between them, only to have him give her a questioning look of mock innocence and say "Yes, Dear Lizzie?"

His use of her family name, combined with his obvious and unwelcome flirting, had rankled her so badly that when they arrived in Meryton, her only thought was to find some way to elude the group and have a few moments alone. They had agreed to go to the bookstore first, and Mr. Collins would visit the barbershop while the ladies went in to the dressmakers. Elizabeth thought that would be the perfect time to make her escape. She'd rather walk the five miles back to Longbourn than have to endure another ride with Mr. Collins. She was so absorbed in planning her getaway that she hardly noticed Mr. Darcy until she ran into him, literally and somewhat painfully, with her shoulder.

"Do you _mind_?" she snapped before she looked up and saw who it was she had nearly been knocked over by. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy, I didn't see you there!"

Mr. Darcy had noticed Elizabeth's preoccupation and meant to stop and ask her if everything was alright. From thirty feet away he could see her face switch from annoyance to chagrin to worry. He had intended to speak to her but when she failed to look up and address him he resolved to keep walking, only to have her nearly tackle him. She was obviously surprised by his appearance and he decided not to bother her any further.

"It's quite alright, Miss Elizabeth." was all he said before crossing the street. For her part, Elizabeth would have been happy to have Mr. Darcy's company at that moment, if for no other reason than to distract her from Mr. Collins for a while. She felt annoyed at him for walking away without another word or glance, and berated herself for thinking the man had actually noticed her, actually liked her in the way that a man liked a woman.

These were her thoughts as she entered the bookstore, and she was so lost in them she did not see through the plate-glass front window Mr. Darcy pause in the middle of the street. He turned back with a deep furrow in his brow and walked back to the store, telling himself he wouldn't go inside. He could see in through the front window, the younger girls were speaking to one of the soldiers from the National Guard post in town, Mary and Jane were speaking with the young man that had been walking with them, who kept glancing in Elizabeth's direction.

Elizabeth was reaching for a book that sat on a high shelf. He watched as she stood on her tiptoes and stretched out her slender arm as far as she could. The book remained out of her reach, and he was getting ready to go in and help her when he saw one of the Guardsmen step forward and pluck the volume off the shelf and hand it to her. Darcy felt a stab of jealousy when she turned a grateful face to her helper and gave him a disarming smile. Darcy scowled and huffed a frustrated sigh, only for Elizabeth to turn in his direction and look straight at him through the shop window. She seemed startled to see him standing there, and her expression caused the Guardsman to follow her gaze out the window.

Darcy could not have been more stunned if the devil himself had been standing there, in a bookstore in Meryton SC, next to the woman he was most interested in. _Might as well be the devil himself, _Darcy thought, _what in the blue hell is Wickham doing here!_ Wickham looked nervous, his eyes widening when he saw Darcy standing outside the shop, clenching and unclenching his fists. Elizabeth was watching the silent exchange with increasing alarm. The blood drained from Mr. Wickham's face and she was surprised to see his hands begin to shake. Mr. Darcy looked so angry, his handsome face was darkened with a rage that Elizabeth admitted frightened her a little. He seemed to realize her distress and, taking a deep breath managed to collect himself before striding in to the bookshop.

It did not escape Elizabeth's notice that Mr. Wickham looked around the room with wild eyes, as if he was searching for an escape route. She wondered what sort of history was between the pleasant young soldier she'd just been speaking to and the mysterious Mr. Darcy. And what had happened to make this man seem almost desperate to get away? No escape was to be had, as he had no more turned around and Mr. Darcy was in front of him, blocking the aisle.

Darcy didn't address his enemy, but came to stand next to Elizabeth and spoke to her instead.

"Is everything alright here, Miss Elizabeth?"

"It…It's fine, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth said, bewildered. She glanced at Wickham, who was looking intently between her and Mr. Darcy. Some idea seemed to occur to him and he flashed Darcy a leer so quick Elizabeth never saw it. Darcy _did _see the look and took hold of Elizabeth's arm, putting himself in front of her.

"Darcy. I reckon you know Miss Bennet?" Seeing Wickham in such a devilish good humor only irritated Darcy further.

"George." He replied in a low, threatening voice. No one moved. The air became thick with tension, and Elizabeth was almost afraid to breathe. Mr. Darcy's grip on her arm wasn't painful, but his hand was so hot it seemed to burn her through her sleeve.

"What's going on here, My Dear Lizzy?" Elizabeth groaned at the sound of Mr. Collins' voice coming from behind them.

Darcy wasn't sure which surprised him more; the strange young man who stood there, nervously twisting his hat in his hands, or the fact that he'd called her 'My Dear Lizzy'. He noticed it was the same young man the Bennets had walked in to the bookstore with. Wickham was amused to see the disappointment and chagrin on his former friend's face, and reckoned that the pretty girl could be useful for something other than what he'd originally intended.

Elizabeth, however, had had enough. Mr. Darcy's interference in the bookshop was obviously over concern for her, but it nettled her that he thought she couldn't take care of herself in a room full of people. The appearance of Mr. Collins was the last straw. Unable to control her ire, she looked at Mr. Darcy with flashing eyes.

"If you wouldn't mind letting go of my arm, _Sir._" Mr. Darcy looked down and seemed to be surprised to see that he was firmly gripping her arm. Embarrassed, he released her.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. She drew herself up, straightening her back and shoulders. She handed Darcy the book she had been holding, the one Mr. Wickham had gotten off of the top shelf for her. "If you _gentlemen_ would excuse me." She said stiffly, before turning abruptly and walking swiftly out the door. Once she was away from the shop window, she began to run, and didn't stop until she was well away from Meryton, and two certain men who were giving her no small headache.

As soon as Elizabeth walked away, the odd, heavyset young man had looked warily between Darcy and Wickham before seeking out the other Bennet girls to let them know what had just happened. Darcy turned to Wickham, who was leaning against a bookshelf, smiling indolently at him.

"I'm surprised at you, Darcy. She's a sweet little country piece; not your usual. Not that _you _have a usual. I'm sure you catch my drift." Darcy rounded on Wickham, making sure to block the only exit from the aisle they stood in.

"She's a friend, George. Like you used to be. And here's some advice, from one former friend to another. I'm about to give you a head start." Wickham sobered instantly, the grin slipping off of his face. Darcy continued in a voice that made Wickham recall the expression 'the calm before the storm'.

"Leave Elizabeth Bennet alone. Don't even _think _in her direction or , as the locals say, I will be on you like white on rice. As it is, George, you and I have unfinished business. This isn't the time or the place but count on it, we _will _finish it." He took a step back so that he was no longer blocking the aisle. "I'd take that head start now, were I you." Wickham didn't waste a second in slinking out of the bookstore. Darcy looked around and noticed that the Bennet girls were gone as well. He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair before looked at the book in his hand, the one Elizabeth had been reaching for. His eyes widening as he read the spine.

It was _Meditations _by Marcus Aurelius.

Elizabeth slowed her pace as she walked towards Longbourn. Her face was pale and her eyes red from crying, and she was glad there was no one around to see her, she didn't feel like explaining her appearance to anyone. Her tears, combined with the walk, had left her exhausted beyond anything she'd ever felt before. She would have to apologize to Mr. Collins when she got home, and she was sure he would take it as encouragement.

She supposed she would have to apologize to Mr. Darcy as well, the next time she saw him. Scrubbing her face with her hand, she tried to remember exactly why she'd been upset with him. At the time she thought it was unfair that he should act possessive of her in any way. _What gives him the right?_ She thought. But was he only concerned for her safety in some way? Was the polite Mr. Wickham so dangerous? She would have to tell her father, she supposed, and her sisters. _What's one more unpleasant task today?_

Mr. Bennet had been sitting in his office for several hours, unsuccessfully trying to read the newspaper. He was waiting for Elizabeth to return home and trying to ignore his wife's voluble tirade against said daughter. He was torn between annoyance towards his wife's attempts to saddle Lizzy with Mr. Collins, and amusement at the suspicion that a far different man was beginning to admire Lizzy a great deal more, and what his wife would say to _that. _He signed and abandoned his paper, taking his pipe from his desk drawer and lighting it. He stood and looked out the window, waiting for Elizabeth.

He wanted all of his children to be well settled and happy, of course, but for Jane, who was the most generous heart in the world, and Elizabeth, who was most like him in mind and spirits, he wanted only the best. He was appalled at her notion at trying to run Longbourn farms one day. Not that he thought her incapable of it, but because he knew her to be capable of so much _more. _His own life had not turned out the way he had ever imagined, and while he took pride in his work and his home, he wished he could say his life had brought him joy. A phrase came to mind, it was one that had nagged him daily for many years now, "Marry in haste, Repent in Leisure." He muttered this aloud to himself as he finally saw Elizabeth walking up the drive, her face tired and pale.

He sighed heavily left his office, walking out the side door to meet his daughter halfway up the path. She looked wearily up at him and said only, "Father."

"Lizzy Lou." She smiled a half-smile at her father's old pet name for her. Where it had come from she didn't know, as her middle name was June.

"Will you come sit with me in my office for a minute, Lizzy?" Elizabeth nodded and followed her father silently. Once inside, he sat Elizabeth down in the chair across his desk, the same one that Mr. Darcy had occupied on his previous visit. He left the room long enough to get them each a glass of wine. Elizabeth took hers gratefully and began to sip it slowly. She avoided her father's sharp eye

but instead looked at the calendar behind his head. November 17th.

"Well then." Mr. Bennet began. "I have heard a very strange and jumbled account about your visit to the bookstore today. I will only ask you to tell me this once, Lizzy. And don't leave anything out, if you please."

Elizabeth relayed the entire scene to her father, from her introduction to Mr. Wickham, to Mr. Darcy's appearance and protective stance, to the mortification of Mr. Collins' sudden intrusion. Mr. Bennet felt a little more at ease on that count, it was obvious to him that Elizabeth had feelings for Darcy, but had yet to realize it or admit it to herself. She had not been mistreated or harmed; only deeply embarrassed. He was concerned as to why Mr. Darcy would want to protect Elizabeth from one particular soldier. After all, he had seen her talking with many soldiers at the dance and had hardly noticed. Of course, things _had _changed a bit since then, but he thought a visit to Netherfield was in order all the same.

Elizabeth had finished her wine and appeared calmer, and Mr. Bennet smiled wryly at her. "Alright then, Lizzy Lou. Don't give this another thought, except maybe keep an eye on Lydia and Kitty when you can, especially when you see them getting chatty with soldiers?" Elizabeth nodded. "You go on upstairs and rest a bit. I know your dogs must be barking. I'll explain to Mr. Collins, so don't worry on that count."

"Thank you, papa." She said gratefully, and left him after kissing the top of his head. Mr. Bennet nodded and took another draw off of his pipe. "You're welcome, my dear." He said to the empty room.


	11. The Whole Sordid Tale

"Darcy, would you _please _stop that pacing? You're going to wear a hole in my floor!"

Charles Bingley was trying to enjoy an afternoon in peace since his sisters and brother-in-law had gone to spend a few days in Columbia with relations of Mr. Hurst. He had no sooner gotten rid of those three when Darcy had returned from town in such a bad mood his friend was leery of approaching him. He contemplated calling on dear Jane, with the additional inducement of Mrs. Bennet's cooking he had looked up to ask Darcy if he'd be game, only to see the man pacing furiously from one end of the room to the other.

Darcy had already contacted his manager, with the strictest instruction to have his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam contacted. If Wickham was staying in Meryton, Darcy would make it his business to keep an eye on the man. And with Richard being co-guardian of Georgiana, Darcy was sure he could enlist his cousin's help in the matter. He paused his fretful pacing and looked at his friend. Bingley looked at him with concern and Darcy wondered if he shouldn't tell him _some_ of what happened in town that day. He considered that Bingley was a constant visitor at Longbourn and would know the story behind Elizabeth's mystery suitor. On the other hand, if he were to blatantly ask Charles who the young man was, it would raise his suspicions. _Oh but I am dying to know._

His thoughts were interrupted by a brief knock on the front door. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he heard Mr. Bennet asking the housekeeper if he could speak with Mr. Darcy. Darcy met him in the hallway, but it was Charles that spoke from behind him.

"Mr. Bennet! Is everything all right? Is there something we can do for you?"

Mr. Bennet nodded in Bingley's direction, saying "Bingley. Rest assured, everything's fine. I came to speak with Mr. Darcy in private for a moment, if I can use your office for a spell. After which you're both to come back to Longbourn for dinner, if you don't have plans already."

Charles moved aside to let them in to his study. "Of course, Mr. Bennet. I'll be in the den when you're done, come find me." He said with a smile before shutting the door.

Darcy met Mr. Bennet's half-amused stare with composure he hadn't felt a few moments ago. He had worried over Elizabeth walking all the way back to Longbourn, and had tried to catch up with her in his car with no luck. If anything had happened to Elizabeth on her way home, he doubted her father would be almost-grinning at him.

"Mr. Darcy, my daughter Elizabeth related quite a story to me today, about an incident in the bookstore."

"I can imagine she did." He said gravely.

"Oh don't frown so, you look tougher than a twenty cent steak!" Darcy grunted a laugh, which made Mr. Bennet smile fully.

"That's better, son. I believe your picture might be in the dictionary, right next to the word 'Taciturn'. Now. Lizzy tells me you were quite the knight, coming to her defense today. What I'd like to know is, is there something I should know so as to warn and protect my daughters?"

Darcy felt a hot rush of shame. In all that time, he never once considered the other Bennet girls, even sweet Jane who he was coming to respect for her kind, giving nature and obvious regard for Charles. All the Bennet girls were attractive in their own way, and he had no doubt that Wickham wouldn't think twice on preying on any of them. If something happened to one of the girls because they were ignorant of the man's true nature, would he be any less to blame? His only thought had been of Elizabeth, how he'd never forgive himself if Wickham were to hurt _her. _But how would _she _feel if his silence allowed one of her sisters to be hurt? He cursed his foolish pride, which sometimes overrode his good sense. He hadn't even considered warning the Bennets, the Lucas's, or any other family with young unmarried daughters, which would have required him to expose his own family's painful history with Wickham.

Slowly and haltingly he began to relate the whole sordid tale to Mr. Bennet, how his father had left a generous sum of money, twenty thousand dollars, all told, to his godson Wickham. George Wickham's father had been Mr. Darcy senior's attorney and closest friend. There had also been a clause in the late Mr. Darcy's will that provided Wickham an allowance for college in addition to the twenty thousand. The allowance was enough to cover tuition and room and board for four years. Rather than put it to use on his education, Wickham requested the sum of the allowance in addition to his inheritance. Darcy granted his request only after Wickham signed a waiver agreeing not to ask for additional funds.

"He disappeared, and it was only three years later that I got a call from him, asking if he could still somehow get a college allowance like my father had wanted him to have, as he now wanted to go to law school. I refused, and he was not seen or heard from for almost another two years. Then, in May, he came back in to our lives in the worst way possible."

"My sister Georgiana had been allowed to go to New York for a week with myself and her tutor, Mrs. Younge, we were joining Richard at the Fitzwilliam townhouse. I accompanied them as much as was possible, but business in the city kept me occupied for most of the week. Richard and I had a meeting at one of our factories in Newark that required us to leave the ladies alone for most of a day. Their intent was to visit Coney Island, and when our business in Newark had to be delayed for a few days, we decided to try to meet up with Georgiana and Mrs. Younge. I'm amazed that we even found them, but my sister always loved the boardwalk, and I hate to think of what might have happened if we hadn't thought to look there first."

"Imagine my surprise, Mr. Bennet, when I arrived to find that Mrs. Younge was nowhere in sight, and my baby sister was cavorting around Coney Island with George Wickham! When he saw us, he actually tried to _run_, if you can believe it. Luckily Richard had enough sense to run after him, If I had tried it I likely would have killed the man." He said grimly.

"We 'insisted' he come back to Manhattan with us. What happened to Mrs. Younge I don't know, she must have caught wind of what happened and slipped off. When we got them back to the townhouse, my sister confessed that she had been secretly seeing George for weeks with the help of Mrs. Younge, and that he had followed her to New York with the intention of eloping. She couldn't understand that she'd been had, taken in by a talented grifter. I made a few calls and found out that he'd gone through the bulk of his inheritance in the space of four and a half years. And with exception of a boat that was docked in Myrtle Beach, he had nothing to show for it. When I confronted him, he confessed that 'along with other enticements' his goal had in fact been my sister's inheritance." Darcy flexed his fist at the memory. "My sister, who was only fifteen at the time, overheard this, and I can't honestly say that she's fully recovered. To be betrayed like that by a trusted childhood friend...I broke his nose and told him that if he ever came near my sister again I'd have him locked up before he could sneeze."

Mr. Darcy turned to look at Mr. Bennet, who was listening to the tale with a patient expectation, as if he knew there was more to follow. Darcy took a deep breath and continued. "I hired a private investigator, Jack Preston, to dig into what Wickham had been up to the past five years. What he found was about as bad as I expected. He found Gambling debts, Cons, a few battered women, and two illegitimate children." Darcy sat heavily in the armchair across from where Mr. Bennet sat and rubbed a hand across his eyes in a tired gesture. "I know it wasn't my place to intervene, but when I saw him today, talking to your daughter…" he trailed off. It didn't escape Mr. Bennet's notice that Darcy's jaw hardened and his fists clenched. He allowed the younger man a moment before speaking.

"Mr. Darcy, I have to take a minute to be grateful that you came in to our lives when you did. Had I not known any of this, anything could have happened, 'specially seeing as how the two youngest will chase after anything in a uniform I think this information is very…ah, _timely._" Darcy nodded. He knew how easily George Wickham could charm a lady, much less an innocent, naive young girl.

"If he can spare the time, my cousin Richard will join me here to keep an eye on Wickham. I may have him stay here while I make a brief trip home to Pemberley." He paused, considering. "Mr. Bennet, er…Tom…you'll keep the details between us?"

"Don't worry, son, I won't tell them any of your particulars. And I have to thank you for thinking of My Lizzie." The older man stood and held his hand out to Darcy, who looked at it a moment before taking it in his own firm handshake.

"Think nothing of it. Or, if you need to thank me let Mrs. Bennet's excellent cooking be thanks enough." He said, suddenly struck by how despite the man's propensity to poke fun at him, Darcy genuinely _liked_ Thomas Bennet.

Mr. Bennet released Darcy's hand and looked at him with such an amused twinkle in his eyes that Darcy began to fear what he would hear next.

"I hope you don't mind, but my Cousin, Mr. Collins is visiting and will dine with us too. I believe you saw him with my girls in the bookshop today?" He saw Mr. Darcy startle but continued blithely, "While I hate to speak ill of family, my cousin is someone I believe you should have fair warning of before you're forced to spend time with him. Luckily, he'll be gone in a week or so, and I can say for sure that _everyone _at Longbourn will be glad of it. Well, maybe not Mrs. Bennet, but I know for a fact that _all _the girls will be glad to see the back of him."

Darcy tried not to look as pleased as he felt, unsuccessfully. Mr. Bennet stopped at the door and look back at him with a sharp eye and said, "If I may ask, son, what in the hell are you waiting for?" With that Mr. Bennet turned and left the room, Darcy could hear him in the den telling Charles it was safe to come out.

Darcy hardly noticed, he stared off at nothing and said "What, indeed?"


	12. The Traxler Variation

Elizabeth was sitting on her swing under the pecan tree, glad to be hidden from Mr. Collins, her mother, and the world in general. She had taken a warm bath and a short nap after speaking with her father, and woke feeling calmer than she'd felt all day. She now deeply regretted the way she had spoken to Mr. Darcy in the bookstore. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that she was sorry so she could put the whole miserable day behind her.

She leaned back in the swing and let rise lazily. _Who are you trying to fool, Lizzy Bennet?_

She had to admit to herself that she wanted to see Mr. Darcy, regardless. Acknowledging her feelings was painful to her; she felt that there were only two possibilities with him. He could either reject her feelings, or he could be ignorant of them and return to Pemberley none the wiser. She knew it was not in his nature to be unkind, but no matter how gently he denied her she had no doubt it would still cut, and deeply. Flattery she ruled out instantly. She wouldn't pursue him the way Caroline did, she admired him too much to cause him that kind of discomfort.

Elizabeth had just resolved that she would keep her secret, and would act in no way different towards Mr. Darcy when the man himself strode through the arbor, stopping next to her swing. He seemed nervous and out of sorts, Elizabeth wanted to run away rather than look at him. She became angry with herself and with him, for no other reason than she felt that he was a man she could love, that she _did _love, and he would leave soon, never knowing she loved him still.

As she stood abruptly from her swing, she saw he held a small package wrapped in brown paper. He approached her and put the package in her hand.

"I…I brought you this." Her curiosity got the better of her anger and she ripped the paper open to see _Meditations_.

"Mr. Darcy…" she had nothing to say. Gingerly, she opened the book, her fingers lovingly touching the pages. She cleared her throat and looked up at him. He was obviously pleased by her reaction. She noticed that his eyes looked greener in the late afternoon light. She wanted to record them in detail, etch their shape and color in her mind, remember the tiny flecks of gold. Commanding herself to speak, Elizabeth decided to get one piece of business out the way so she could begin the business of shoring up her heart.

"Mr. Darcy, I have to apologize for the way I talked to you today. I realize you were just looking out for me, which means I will also say thank you." Shyly, she added, "You are a good friend, sir."

She blushed crimson and looked over at him, surprised to see him frowning deeply. Her heart quailed, and she turned her back to him, determined not to let him see her disappointment. She was shocked when, a moment later, he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him. His other hand lightly gripped the top of her other arm so that she couldn't hide her face even if she'd wanted to.

Darcy didn't think he could stand it another moment. Why had he been fighting it for so long? He loved her. How it all fell into place the moment she'd called him a friend! He loved her wildly and she only saw a friend? Didn't she see how cruel that was? The time had come, he had to speak.

"Elizabeth", he said simply, his voice gruff. "Elizabeth, Please."

"Sir?" she said meekly.

He pulled her to him, not roughly but not gently either, so that their bodies were pressed together. She felt a rush of heat on her neck and began to tremble. His eyes were dark pools, as dark as they'd been the first night they'd met, when they danced. How much better she understood that severe expression now! His hands moved from her shoulders down her back, and he held his arms around her like warm, immovable iron. She could hardly believe it when his hand cupped the back of her head and he pressed his cheek against her own. She could smell his shaving soap.

"Please don't say that, Elizabeth." he begged, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

"Don't call me your friend. Tell me you love me or send me away, but don't call me your friend."

"Mr. Darcy?" she gasped. Her head spun, a riot of emotions shot through her, mostly confusion and surprise. When his lips found hers, however, all confusion was gone. She felt only a savage joy, and returned his kiss with a passion to rival his own. She didn't care that he had pulled the ribbon out of her hair and was unwinding her braid with his long fingers. She didn't care if her whole family could see them if they were to come out the back door. She let herself be carried off by the force of her own delight. He soon moved from her mouth but never stopped kissing her. While he twined his fingers through her curls, his lips touched her cheeks, her eyelids, her hair, the line of her jaw, she gasped to feel him kissing her neck. "Mr. Darcy!" she said, breathlessly.

He kissed the hair at her temples, and then whispered in her ear, "If you don't stop calling me 'Mr. Darcy' I'll be very put out." Impetuously, he nibbled her earlobe, delighted to hear her gasp and feel her back arch in response. He groaned clasped her tighter, pressing his mouth to hers. This time their kiss was a gentler, sweeter exploration. Unable to help herself, she wound her fingers through his dark, silky hair. After a moment he stopped, giving her one last peck on the lips. He looked down at her seriously before his face broke out in a smile so bright and beautiful, he looked for a moment like a man who had never known loss or pain.

"You really couldn't tell I've been in love with you all this time, could you? My Lizzie. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one!"

Elizabeth laughed shakily; still a bit dizzy from everything that had just happened.

"I'll have you know that I'm the _funny _one, dear William. What do you mean by 'all this time'? Surely not since the dance!" She noticed his guilty expression as he started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. She laughed and told him he looked 'as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs'.

"Ah. Well…I guess since we're, um, clearing the air…I figure I have a small confession to make."

"Well, spit it out!" She said, bewildered.

"Okay, here goes…the day that Bingley came to finalize the sale of Netherfield? He was in the house, with your Uncle Phillips. I was walking through the woods to cool off, it was the middle of August and...the house had been shut up for so long, and…" He stopped when he heard her gasp and looked up to see a beautiful, deep blush spread over her face and neck.

"You saw me swimming!" she squeaked. He took her hand in his and kissed the palm, he held it pressed to his cheek.

"I never saw your face" he said gently.

"Then how did you…oh! You heard me singing!" He nodded. He looked down at her, this woman that he loved, with her auburn curls falling loose and soft, her cheeks pink with embarrassment and eyes bright with indignation. She had never looked so beautiful as she did now that she was _his._ His eyes were drawn to the small mole just under her left eye, the small round scar on her temple, the dark fringe of her eyelashes, the corner of her mouth.

"If you never saw my face, I suppose it's too much to hope for that you never saw anything else." Her voice was sounded so distressed he couldn't help but pull her close once more.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." he said solemnly and kissed her again, the way he'd wanted to in the dance hall. He wanted to leave her in no doubt of how he felt.

When he put some space between them, she favored him with a wry look.

"Don't think that I'm letting you off the hook so easily, dear William." He laughed and pulled her close to him. She rested her head against his chest, he kissed her hair and muttered "Lizzie".

He gave her a moment to smooth her hair and straighten her dress, but could not stop touching her in small ways. He touched a curl at her temple, the inside of her wrist, the small of her back. Now that he _could _touch her, he thought of doing nothing else.

"I'd like to ask a favor, William."

"You only have to ask."

"Can we keep this," she motioned in the space between them, "to ourselves for a night or two?" She saw the confused look on his face and explained.

"My mother…once she finds out…well, let's just say your visits to Longbourn won't be nearly so pleasant as this one!"

"I can handle your mother, Elizabeth. But I understand if you want to enjoy the secret for a few days."

"You say that _now_, if she had come outside five minutes ago she would already be making wedding pla-"

Elizabeth snapped her mouth shut and called herself stupid in four different languages. _Estulto._ _Imbécile. Stolto. Idiot._ Darcy smiled gently at her; cupping her small chin in his hand he raised her face so that she would look him in the eye.

"Elizabeth. I want to say this so you'll understand me. I love you, you lovely, silly woman. If I can't marry you, I'll never marry anyone. Do you want me to talk to your parents right now? I thought I would give us more time for courting, but if you would have me I'd marry you tonight."

Elizabeth laughed at him, thrilled by what he'd said. "That won't be necessary for tonight, Mr. Darcy. Besides, as my father reminds us often, 'Marry in Haste, Repent in Leisure'. Let's just enjoy dinner, we'll figure out the details soon enough. Are you still leaving after Bingley's party next weekend?"

"I'm actually not sure now, with Wickham in town. Did your father tell you?" She nodded solemnly. Of course she should have trusted that he knew what he was doing in the bookstore! She was still a bit irritated by his high-handedness, but her heart swelled to think of him, putting himself in front of her like a wall, or a very tall shield.

Her father had had a very serious talk with all of the girls, but had revealed considerably more to Jane and Elizabeth in private. Her heart ached for Darcy's young sister, she imagined how easily that could have been Kitty or Lydia, who were silly and flirtatious but so good-natured that they could never be suspicious or cautious. She and Jane had made a vow between themselves to at least _try_ to be as good of a protector for their sisters as Darcy had been for his.

Elizabeth saw him scowling slightly and knew that his thoughts were probably the same as hers at the moment. Reaching up, she touched the side of his face with her hand, rubbing her thumb across his cheek. "Your sister is so lucky to have you." He captured her hand and kissed the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. He'd never felt so grateful in his life.

They had begun to walk back to the house when he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and asked,

"Do you think Mr. Collins will be _very_ mad at me?"

* * *

Georgiana Darcy had slipped her brother's letter into her bible before leaving for church. She made a habit of bringing some little amusement with her every Sunday. At first Mrs. Annesley had been scandalized, until she'd sat through several of Mr. Elliot's sermons herself. Then she too began slipping her dime novels in between the pages of her own bible. Georgiana had given her friend, tutor, and companion a look that said _I told you so, _but said nothing.

She forced herself to be still in the pew. Georgiana was not opposed to church, she remembered that she used to enjoy it, in the days before Mr. Elliot and his uninspired, long-winded speechifying. Once she was certain the man had gotten up a good head of very dull steam, Georgiana took out Will's letter, and opening it in the chapter of Luke, began to read.

She was amazed at her brother's sudden playfulness, which she had seen little of since their father died. Something was decidedly different, and that something was obviously the intriguing Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Georgiana chuckled softly to herself, she could well believe Will making a bad first impression. She loved her big brother dearly, but was not as blind to his faults as he was to hers. She rolled her eyes at his mention of Caroline Bingley. Georgiana might be young, but she knew a social climber when she saw one. She felt sympathy for Charles, and was glad that she had a sibling she could respect.

She felt doubly blessed as Richard had just become engaged, now it looked as though Will may have found someone special too. There were no two people in the world more deserving of love than those two. And she relished the thought of another woman coming in to the family, _finally. _As well as Will and Richard looked after her, and as good and kind as Mrs. Annesley was, Georgiana needed someone who understood her, someone she could confide in. She hoped that Richard's Claire, or Will's Elizabeth would be that someone.

Of course it sounded as though her brother had some work to do before the lady in question would be _his _Elizabeth. Will had spent so long protecting her from people he _didn't _want her to meet, she couldn't fathom that there was someone out there that he _did _want her to know. She must be very special indeed, this Elizabeth Bennet.

Georgiana froze. She'd heard that name before! But where? And why did it make her think of seashells?

She was distracted by the sudden _thud_ of Mrs. Annesley's bible falling on the floor next to her foot. Georgiana looked over to see her companion had drifted off to sleep, still clutching her novel.

* * *

Richard packed in a hurry, he'd only just gotten the call from Darcy's Manager two hours ago. He arranged his flight as quickly as possible, and began shoving things at random in his suitcase while Claire called a taxi. He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, her gray-green eyes filled concern.

"You're sure there's nothing I can do to help?" she asked again. Richard sighed and forced his face into an expression of calmness. He strode over to his fiancee, taking her hand.

"I would love to have you with me, my dear. And I know for a fact that Darcy will be chomping at the bit to meet you. But I can't stand to think of putting you within ten yards of that snake Wickham." He kissed her smooth forehead, brushing aside her honey-colored hair.

"Besides," he continued quietly, "If I took you how would I ever keep an eye on Wickham? You drive me to distraction." he smiled rakishly and touched his finger to the tip of her nose, making her laugh.

Claire Connelly, or CeeCee as her friends called her, understood that there was still much to learn about the man she was engaged to. She never forced his confidence, only gave him her support and allowed herself to trust that he knew what he was doing. It had been many months since she'd seen the faraway look in his eyes he had when they'd first met. It didn't escape her notice that he wore it now, and she shuddered to see it. That cold expression looked so out of place on his normally laughing, smiling face.

Of course Richard had told her the story of his Uncle's godson, and the man's depravity in trying to seduce a 15-year-old girl for the sole purpose of her inheritance. She knew he was right in going to join his cousin, and loved him all the more for it. What was more important than family? Not having one of her own made her appreciate his even more. Her own parents had died several years ago, and her older brother she lost in the war. It was what brought them together in the first place, they were both adrift in the world. After being alone for so long, she relished the idea of having a family. First Georgiana and Will, and then their own family. Her hand went automatically to her belly. Perhaps she would have one sooner than the other.


	13. As Certain Dark Things

_Assume a virtue, if you have it not. _George Wickham had always found those to be words to live by. People who met him for the first time were usually left with the impression that he was friendly, honest, engaging, and sympathetic with a good sense of humor. His good looks and easy smile had been his greatest asset in creating favorable impressions. In reality, he was a shrewd observer of the human condition. He had learned from an early age how to spot a weakness in a person and exploit it to his own benefit. It was this talent that he used to the greatest advantage with the late Mr. Darcy. Wickham had always known exactly which of his Godfather's buttons to push to get exactly what he wanted. He had no doubt that if Will Darcy's father were still alive; he wouldn't be stuck in the National Guard, in a post that was out in the middle of nowhere.

Wickham poured himself a drink and sighed, making a slow circuit around his rooms. And now of all the rotten luck, Darcy was there! Without realizing what he was doing, Wickham rubbed his thumb across the bridge of his nose, which had once been smooth but now sported a noticeable bump. _Unfinished business, my ass!_

He knew now that he had seriously mismanaged things with Darcy after his father's death. He should have kept up the show, he realized. However at the time he couldn't stand another minute of the man's constant, tedious moralizing. _George, you shouldn't drink so much. George, you'll gamble yourself into the grave. George, you shouldn't carry on with waitresses. George, this is the last time I'm posting bail for you. _Darcy had been singing the same tune since they'd first gotten hair on their chins, and Wickham had had enough. Of course Darcy was probably as wearisome as ever, but it was his actions that Wickham was interested in.

He'd gone in to the bookstore with Denny, who'd spotted some spirited young things he knew, Kitty and Lydia. Wickham had looked at the younger of the two with mild interest until he'd seen the other girl, the dark-haired beauty who was reaching for a book on the top shelf. He had taken a moment to watch her struggle, admiring the smooth shape of her legs before stepping forward to help her. He'd had just enough time for introductions with Elizabeth Bennet before he realized that Darcy, the great lumbering dullard himself, stood just outside the store.

Taking another sip of his bourbon, Wickham considered Darcy's behavior towards the fair Eliza. He'd seen his former friend around women before, and aside from the occasional boyhood crush, Darcy usually treated them with as much indifference as he did everyone. What made this country girl so special? Aside from Georgiana, Darcy had never seemed protective of anyone.

Wickham took a moment to put the needle back on the record and pour another drink. _I've got a kindhearted woman,_ the song declared, _do anything in this world for me._ Wickham laughed flatly. Indeed, he didn't know of anything so useful as a kindhearted woman.

What he wanted to know was, how deep was Darcy in? Had he told Miss Bennet of their past dealings? If that were the case, then the girl herself would likely be out of the question. She'd be poisoned against him. But he didn't necessarily need to consider _her_. Denny, who was more useful than smart, had later shared with him that Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were also Bennets, in fact they were Elizabeth's sisters.

Pacing his room, Wickham began to plan.

* * *

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she landed on her bottom in the middle of the field. She looked up at the sound of a masculine laugh from above her. "I _told _you to wait for me!" Darcy jumped from the lowest tree branch and went to help her up. A dainty scowl crossed her face, which made him laugh even harder. "Elizabeth Bennet, you are stubborn as a mule." She answered him with a womanly _harrumph_ and began dusting the dirt off of her grass stained dungarees. She looked up at her audience and said, "There's no need grinning like a goat in the briar patch, Will Darcy. I still made it to the top before you did. I _told_ you your long arms wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oh Really?" he said, imitating her now-famous eyebrow lift. She giggled but backed away from him.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Is that what you think, Miss Bennet?" he playfully lunged after her as she shrieked and ran to the other side of the tree. While she was fast, he was tall and used it to his advantage, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, wrapping his arms tightly around the backs of her knees.

"Mr. Darcy, you put me down this instant!" she thumped her small fists on his back. Ignoring her demand, he spun around and cried "What do you have to say about my long arms _now_, Miss Bennet?"

"Put me down or I'll be sick!" they were both laughing now, and he relaxed his hold on her legs, allowing her to slide down the front of his body. Only once her feet were firmly on the ground did they realize how intimate the action had been, and allowed themselves to get carried away for a few moments. Elizabeth stepped back first, breathless and flushed. He smiled serenely at her and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"Shall we go back now?" he asked.

"Yes indeed. I'll have to take a bath before we go to the movies."

"I beg you not to talk about bathing around me, Elizabeth." He leaned down and whispered in her ear "at least _not_ _yet._"

She still couldn't help but get embarrassed when he talked to her like that, even though it gave her a strange feeling of warm anticipation.

Ready to change the subject for a moment, she asked him about his cousin's arrival. "Won't going to the theater interfere with picking him up?"

"No, he won't arrive until about an hour after the movie. I'll leave for the airfield straight from the theater, Bingley will give you and your sister a ride back to Netherfield, and Dick & I will join you there for dinner."

"Oh I'm glad to hear it. I would hate to make him wait just to satisfy my need to see _Key Largo_ again."

"Oh, I'd make him wait even if that were the case."

"I'm sure Lauren Bacall has nothing to do with it either." The corner of her mouth lifted up in a half-smile.

"Of course not!" he scoffed, then added quietly "Now if it were Ingrid Bergman…"

Elizabeth grinned and lowered her voice to imitate Bergman's sultry purr "Come Mister D, what is darkening your brow?" It was her favorite line from _Notorious_, and she was delighted now she had someone whose last name began with a 'D' to use it on.

Darcy laughed and tugged on her hand. "I'm sure you wish I was Cary Grant!"

"Yes, it's my misfortune to be saddled with such an unfortunate-looking fellow!" she laughed.

They approached Longbourn to see Jane and Bingley sitting under the pecan tree, which they both now thought of as _their _tree, as it was dear to both of them.

"Lizzy, where did you get off to?" Jane asked, smiling when her sister looked at her with mock innocence.

"I was just winning a bet with Mr. Darcy. He's buying everyone's popcorn today, but there's really no need to thank me, dearest."

Jane shook her head, even though she was always amused at her sister's brave antics. "If Mama finds out you've been climbing trees again, you'll be in trouble, And I won't protect you this time!"

"Oh, then it's best we don't tell her then."

"I never told her about you and your slingshot, and she still found out!"

"Yes, but that's because I used it on Mr. Peterson's dog. Remember how mean it was, always killing my chickens?"

Darcy was delighted but in no way surprised that Elizabeth knew how to use a slingshot. He told her as much, and she quietly offered to use it in helping him fend off Caroline Bingley.

* * *

Inside the house, Mr. Collins stood at the window watching the laughing, playful group. His finger touched the glass over Elizabeth's image, blotting her out.

* * *

Darcy was glad to have the time alone on the drive over to the airfield to collect Richard. The events of the past few days had given him very little time to process everything that had happened. His seething anger towards Wickham had been so overshadowed by his happiness with Elizabeth. He had almost forgotten about Richard's visit to Meryton at his request. Almost.

His thoughts turned to Wickham now, and he felt uneasy at the memory of the man's knowing sneer towards Elizabeth. Of course now that she knew what he was there was no way she'd be taken in by his false charms. It was still for the best that Richard was joining him. His cousin had friends in high places, both from his days in the Army and people that knew the Ambassador. If anything, they could get Wickham transferred out of Meryton and tucked away where he couldn't make any trouble. Somewhere like the middle of the desert.

"Darcy, old man!" Darcy had been so deep in his own thoughts; he hadn't even noticed his cousin approaching him.

"Richard! Damn it, make a little noise before you sneak up on a man like that!" Richard dropped his bag and gave his cousin a handshake and a clap on the back.

"It's good to see you, Will!" Richard said enthusiastically. "You're looking better than you've looked in an age! What have you been up to, you old dog?"

Darcy laughed and grabbed Richard's duffel. "You'll see soon enough, Dick." They chatted amiably all the way out to Darcy's car, and after shutting Richard's bag in the trunk he slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead as though he had just remembered something.

"Richard! You let me run on so long I almost forgot to congratulate you! What an ass I am!"

Richard laughed and lightly socked his cousin on the arm. "No Worries, Cousin! Though I'm inclined to agree with the last part of that statement I'll accept your well wishes regardless."

"What's she like, Dick?" he couldn't deny that he was incredibly curious about the lady that had finally been good enough for Richard, who was taking a small photo out of his wallet and handing it over to him. Darcy took it gingerly and looked at the girl, or rather woman who was to be is cousin's wife. She had a smooth, heart-shaped face, with honey blonde hair and calm grey-green eyes. "She's a wonderful woman. She teaches French at St. Catherine's. She certainly keeps me in my place!" Darcy thought she looked pleasant, but wolf-whistled for Richard's benefit while handing the photo back.

"Don't even think about it." Richard warned, putting the photo back in its place. "I am happy to say that Claire Connelly is already spoken for."

Darcy grinned as they got in the car, thinking of Elizabeth. Of course Richard, who noticed everything, saw this and asked him what was so damned amusing.

"I can't decide if it's more entertaining that you finally decided to settle down or that you think I could have designs on your sweetheart."

"What! Is she not good enough for you? Rascal! I think we're going to have to fight now!" Richard flicked Darcy's ear, the way they used to when they were boys. Darcy protected his ear by ducking his head, which wasn't easy while trying to drive at the same time.

"Maybe after we're out of the car, Richard! Keep this up and we'll crash into the swamp and end up alligator chow!" Richard relented and Darcy straightened up, both of them laughing at their antics.

"Besides," he continued, "you should know that I'm officially off the market." He took a moment to relish his cousin's stunned face.

"What!" Richard practically shouted. "Has Caroline Bingley finally managed to ensnare you? What did she do, set a bear trap?" Darcy laughed at the image of himself with his foot caught in a bear trap, Elizabeth standing over him, aiming a slingshot at Caroline Bingley. _Oh this is too much fun._

"Don't you think we should talk about Wickham?" he asked, changing tactics.

Richard made a face and then glared at Darcy. "I'd rather not! I want to hear about how you're going to marry Caroline Bingley!" Laughing, Darcy told his cousin to relax. "It's not Caroline, but she _is_ at Netherfield right now. I'm sure she's very anxious to meet you."

Richard gave him his old rakish grin and said "Told her about me, eh?"

"Not a syllable."

They continued on in their brotherly teasing for the better part of the hour-long drive, and though they did discuss Pemberley and Georgiana, they mostly talked about football. Richard had played in college for VMI, and though he'd desperately wanted to play, Darcy had been far too weighed down with his studies to try out himself. They discussed their favorite teams, (Richard favored Notre Dame while Darcy preferred Clemson) at length. They were so caught up in their discussion that they were both a little surprised when they arrived at Netherfield.

It had been dark for over an hour, and the lights in the windows looked friendly and welcoming in the cool November night. Darcy sighed contentedly as they neared the door, he could hear the sound of laughter coming from inside the house. Handing Richard his duffel, Darcy opened the door and ushered him inside.

* * *

Elizabeth was having a splendid time. Charles was entertaining them all with tales of his college exploits; she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. After she managed to get her giggles under control, she took a sip from her wineglass and looked at Jane, who was positively blooming under Charles Bingley's adoring gazes. Elizabeth had no doubt that everything would be wrapped up nicely for those two, and soon. She had never seen her sister so smitten. _And perhaps everything might be wrapped up nicely for myself as well, _she thought to herself, glowing at the thought of spending her life with Will Darcy.

_I doubt Caroline will ever forgive me._ Though she knew it wasn't Will that Caroline wanted, but his fortune and the image she would gain as Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth realized that since declaring themselves, she hadn't once thought about his money. She didn't care if he had millions or if he lived in a shoebox. She loved the man for who he was, not what he had. With those happy thoughts she allowed her mind to wander while Charles refilled their glasses.

The sound of the front door seemed to bring her back to the present, and she went to stand over by Jane so that Bingley could welcome his new guest. She was excited to meet a member of Will's family, and a bit nervous, hoping that he would approve of her. She took another sip of wine to settle her nerves. When the men walked in to the room, Bingley stepping forward to shake hands with Darcy's cousin. Darcy was first through the door, his eyes sought her out and they shared a smile and a tender look before she turned to see their newest arrival.

For a moment she didn't understand what she was seeing. Then, as realization struck her, she gasped sharply and dropped her glass. The _pop_ of the shattered crystal caused all eyes to turn to her, and it was then that Richard finally looked past Bingley to see who else was in the room. He blinked rapidly, as if to clear his vision. His mouth immediately went dry.

"_Lizzie_?"

"_Richard_?"

They didn't notice the three pairs of eyes that widened in surprise.


	14. A Matter of Chance

Jane recognized Richard Fitzwilliam almost as soon as Elizabeth did. She remembered him from Charleston, where he'd often visited the girls and their aunt Gardiner. Unlike Richard' s account to Darcy, Elizabeth had held nothing back from Jane in relating their ocean-side interlude. Jane had been a little scandalized by her sister's behavior with a man she hardly knew, but had also been the tiniest bit jealous. Jane often wished she could be as brave as Elizabeth.

Of course her sister looked anything but brave now. Jane glanced at Mr. Darcy and his cousin and quickly surmised one was thoroughly shocked, the other utterly bewildered. Ever graceful under pressure, Jane stepped forward and held out her hand to Richard.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam, isn't it? How nice to see you again!" This seemed to clear the air a little bit, and Bingley set off to enlist the housekeeper to help with the broken glass. Elizabeth had bent to pluck the largest pieces off of the wood floor, unable to look anyone in the eye at that moment. Richard hesitated only a second before he took Jane's hand and shook it.

"Miss Bennet! It's Jane, am I right?"

"How nice of you to remember."

"Not at all. How is your Aunt? Give her my regards, won't you?"

"She's doing well, I'll tell her you asked."

Jane turned to Elizabeth, who had been placing the broken chunks of cut crystal in the dustbin. She stood now and smoothed her skirt, coming to stand in front of Richard and Darcy. _Papa would laugh fit to split if he were here. _She took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. She could see that Richard attempted to do the same. Of all the people! She observed that he hadn't aged much in the past three years, though he wore his hair noticeably longer, and he didn't seem as lean as she remembered.

Now seeing him standing next to his cousin, she realized why she sometimes got the feeling that Darcy was somehow familiar to her. There was a clear family resemblance, though Darcy was taller, with darker eyes. She was now glad she had never mentioned her occasional feelings of familiarity to Darcy. For his sake, she determined she would meet this damned awkward situation with as much poise as she could. She smiled at Richard as if they were old friends, which, she supposed in a way was true.

"Richard," she took his hand and shook it warmly, hoping he wouldn't notice how sweaty her palm was, "it's so very good to see you again."

"Elizabeth" he croaked "it's been a long time." He still seemed taken aback. "It has." Her eyes flew up to meet Darcy's. She smiled tremulously, willing herself not to panic.

"I take it you two know each other." he said flatly. Elizabeth's heart pounded like a drum at the dull, lifeless tone of his voice. She realized he might not be as entirely in the dark as she had hoped.

"Yes, we met several years ago, when we were on vacation with our Aunt Gardiner. It's quite the chance, isn't it?"

"Yes, quite." Darcy muttered. Elizabeth came to stand beside him. It was the best gesture she could manage, but still fell short of what she wanted to do. She wanted to link her arm through his, or lean against his shoulder, or do some small act that would reassure her that he was real, that _they_ were real. What had seemed so solid only moments ago now felt shaky and unsure. She also felt that it would be rude to show affection in front of Richard, given their past and not knowing if he was aware of her relationship with his cousin.

Darcy was no fool. He'd realized almost as soon as he'd heard Richard acknowledge her as 'Lizzie' that she must be the mystery woman from three years ago. _Of course, she would be._ He wanted to curse, he wanted to pull her close and kiss her until she forgot any name but his, he wanted to not look at either one of them. He loved her and he loved his cousin, but he couldn't stand the thought that they might have loved each other. A hot, sickening jealousy coursed through him.

He clearly recalled the conversation that night on the back porch at Pemberley. Richard openly admitted that he had kissed this girl and nothing else. Darcy supposed he should be grateful for the 'and nothing else', especially knowing Richard had always had a way with women. But he had kissed her, his Elizabeth! _Good god, he could have even been her first kiss!_

What was so much worse was how different this one girl had been from the ones that had come before. _She_ had been an exception, _she_ had been special. What if Richard had been special to her as well? A thought occurred that sent Darcy spiraling into the deepest misery. Suppose she unknowingly chose _him _because of his resemblance to Richard? Darcy couldn't stand to think of it. The room suddenly felt very crowded, too crowded.

"Excuse me." He said and left without a backward glance. Richard said nothing, but understood everything when he saw the hurt look in Elizabeth's eyes at the sound of Darcy's car speeding away.

* * *

"May I join you?"

"By all means." Elizabeth's voice was weak, she didn't turn around to greet Richard. He came to stand beside her on the balcony. She'd been out there since Darcy had left a half hour ago. Richard was only too happy to leave Jane alone with Bingley, who asked a deal of questions as to why his friend would leave without a word. It was not the questions that made Richard uncomfortable, but the answers. He was sure Jane could bring him up to speed with much more diplomacy.

Elizabeth's face was dry, and Richard was relieved to not see tears. He felt a surge of irrational anger towards Darcy. Richard wasn't unsympathetic, he realized it was an uncomfortable situation all around, but it wasn't as though they'd planned for it! He was still stunned that she should be here, after all this time, and in love with his cousin!

"I'm sure he'll be back soon." Richard tried to sound calm, though he felt anything but. She was still so beautiful! She wore her dark curls pinned up, and he found himself distracted by a stray lock that rested on the side of her neck. Looking back, he knew that there had been whole long stretches of time where he never once thought of her, only to wake up sweating in the middle of the night, still tasting the salt spray off of her mouth. He was jealous of Darcy, no doubt about that. Whatever history they had between them, it was perfectly obvious where her heart was now. _And yours is with Claire_, he reminded himself.

He felt a pang of guilt for allowing himself to get caught up in his memories while his Claire was out there, waiting for him._ I will do right by you, _he swore to himself. _I won't disappoint you my dear, sweet Claire._ He turned to Elizabeth. They were not easy, but they did manage to make some conversation and little by little became more comfortable until Bingley came outside. He would be driving the ladies back to Longbourn since Darcy was still nowhere to be seen.

* * *

It was well after Midnight by the time Darcy returned to Netherfield and ambled back to his room. He already knew that Richard would be waiting up for him, and was not surprised to see his cousin sitting in the wing-back chair beside the window, reading a book.

When Darcy staggered in, Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Tell me you didn't drive like that."

"Mind your own Richard." he spat at his cousin, collapsing on to the bed. He threw his arm over his face. "and go away."

Richard stood up and walked over to where Darcy was sprawled out. He seemed to consider something for a moment before taking his book and bringing it down on his cousin's head with a resounding _thwack!_ Stunned, Darcy bolted upright, cradling his head in his hand.

"WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!" he roared like an injured bear. Richard rolled his eyes and returned to his chair. "Nothing is wrong with me, Fitzwilliam Darcy. There is, however, something very wrong with _you."_

_"_Yes, there is NOW. And I was under the impression I'd just told you to mind your own!"

"Yes, so you did and so I am. Let me speak my peace and I'll leave you to stew for the rest of the night." Darcy still held his head, rubbing the knot that was forming there. He looked at Richard out of one sharp eye. "Go on then." he seethed.

"You should know that you hurt a young lady's feelings tonight."

Darcy growled but Richard ignored him, continuing. "I gathered by your Houdini act earlier that you've guessed when and where Elizabeth and I met before." He held up his hand in a silencing gesture when Darcy tried to speak again.

"What happened isn't her fault, or mine. And your dwelling on it is just too much pumpkin for a nickel. I can promise you that you have nothing to worry about, you prize idiot. That girl is in love with you, and _only you. _I can see that all manner of foolish ideas must have gone through your thick skull tonight. Well, you can forget them all. For some reason, _you_ are the one she wants. "

Darcy didn't say anything, but closed his eyes, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't even know what he would say. He knew there was sense in what Richard said. He still felt incredibly jealous, but couldn't justify it. It _was _the past, and it wasn't as if Elizabeth had been the first woman he'd kissed. He supposed he would always feel some jealousy that she and Richard had something apart from him, but he couldn't really hold it against them.

He now felt like such a heel for running away at the first sign of trouble, while she'd stood her ground and tried to make the best of an uncomfortable situation. What kind of man did that? _My brave Lizzie, I don't deserve her! _He knew it had all been a matter of his own pride, once again getting the better of his good sense and judgement. He _was_ a prize idiot.

"How upset was she?" he asked dejectedly.

"Oh very. I wonder now If she'll ever forgive you. It'll probably take the rest of your lives for you to make it up to her." Richard stood to leave. Before he walked out the door he looked back at Darcy. "You're a lucky man. Don't muck it up." With that he left the room.

Darcy still sat up, nursing the knot on his head. He considered Richard's parting words, _It'll probably take the rest of your lives to make it up to her._

He was not able to sleep for several more hours.

* * *

For entirely different reasons, Jane Bennet also had trouble falling to sleep that night. She hugged her pillow close to her, her stomach doing flips as she remembered what had happened when she'd been left alone with Mr. Bingley earlier that evening. She sighed to herself and giggled in pure delight. Though her eyes were wide awake and open, all she could see was the look Charles' face when she'd said _"yes"._

They would be making the announcement at the party.

* * *

It was on a bright and sunny fall afternoon that Lydia Bennet found herself once again in Meryton's dress maker's shop. Lydia was an outgoing, boisterous girl who loved to enjoy herself above all things. All her life people had assumed that because of her naturally jubilant nature that she was making up for being rather simple. This was actually very far from the truth.

She was certainly better in school than her sister Kitty, who had to stay after the bell for remedial math. This had never been a problem for Lydia, subjects like Math and science came naturally to her. She only had to spend a fraction of the time that her sisters spent studying and did just as well if not better on tests. However, she made up for this knack for knowledge with a woeful lack of common sense.

She was determined not to return to Longbourn that afternoon without at least four different ribbon options for the dress she'd be wearing to Bingley's party. She was unaware of the young man who stood outside the five and dime across the street, watching her through the shop window. Lydia was like her mother in many ways, and her single-track mind was no exception, especially when it came to her appearance.

George Wickham rejoiced in his good luck. Not only was the young Lydia alone that day, but Denny hadn't been able to come in to town with him that afternoon. His presence would have complicated things, as he would have to introduce himself as George Wickham. He knew it was entirely possible that the name was now not unheard of, thanks to Darcy. As he approached the shop, he allowed himself to admire Lydia as she plundered through a bin of loose buttons. She was a bit more fair in her complexion and the color of her eyes, but her curly hair and petite frame reminded him very much of her sister Elizabeth. He regretted that he would not become better acquainted with that particular lady, but looking at her younger sister, he considered the alternatives to be just as pleasing.

Lydia was in high spirits as she left the shop, she had found several different ribbons she liked and a little bit of trim that had been on sale as well. She began making her way over to Maria Lucas' house, enjoying the cool air and sunshine and not particularly paying attention to where she was walking when she bumped into someone and dropped her bag.

She was delighted to see a youngish man in uniform reach down and scoop up her bag, handing it back to her with a smile that made Lydia's breath catch in her throat. "Yours, Ma'am?" he said as held the bag out. She took it automatically, distracted by the uniform and the man in it. Her mother would have described him as 'devilish handsome', with his quick blue eyes and easy smile. Lydia noticed that his nose was a bit crooked, but that only seemed to add to his charm.

"Thank you so much!" she smiled coquettishly and blinked slowly to show off her thick eyelashes. It was what Lydia liked to call her 'signature move', she only used it when she met a young man whose attention she particularly wanted, whether it was for a dance or a a new record or a chocolate malt. It never failed her, and this time was no exception. The solider smiled and spoke to her.

"It's a fine day for walking, do you have far to go Miss?"

"Oh not so very far. I walk to the Lucas' and my sister Jane picks me up on her way home from Dr. Jones' office."

"May I walk with you to the Lucas' door then, miss...?"

"I'm Lydia Bennet, and I'd be pleased if you joined me." she favored him with her brightest smile.

"It's very nice to meet you, Lydia Bennet" He splayed a hand on his chest. "I'm Robert Lovelace." He fell in to step beside her. _This is going to be easier than I'd imagined, _Wickham thought.

"Do you like dancing, Robert?" Lydia asked boldly.

_Much easier than I'd imagined. _"I do at that, Lydia."


	15. Fall Seven Times

Elizabeth ran hell-bent through Longbourn's north fields, aiming for the tree line that separated their property from Old Mr. Peterson's (he of the chicken-killing dog). Her unbound hair flew behind her like a dark cape. Her legs ached and her chest burned, she felt sweat running down her back and temples in rivulets. Her eyes stung with the hot tears she had been holding back for two days, and she could not, _would not_ hold them back any longer. She ran like the devil himself was after her. _And in a way he is, _She thought.

Once inside the shady protection of the tall, ancient live oaks, she fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. Deep, rough sobs ripped through her she shuddered at the misery the last two days had brought. Not caring about the red clay dirt, she lay on the ground and cried herself into a stupor, finally understanding what people meant when they talked about digging a hole to crawl in to.

How was it that a few days ago she had been happily climbing trees with Mr. Darcy? She looked back at that carefree, spirited girl and could see no resemblance to herself at that moment. Of course she knew everything had gone horribly wrong when Mr. Darcy (she no longer allowed herself to call him 'Will') had ran out of Netherfield like the house was on fire.

She'd somehow managed to keep her composure that evening, for no other reason than an emotional scene would doubtless make everything worse. And it wasn't really her fault or Richard's that they had a history. How could he not see that?

Then the next day, Jane shared the happy news of her engagement with the family. Elizabeth was thrilled for her sister, sad for herself, and relieved at the distraction the news provided. She'd slept little the night of the disastrous visit to Netherfield. Around dawn she had nodded off, not waking up until late afternoon. She was getting ready to come down for dinner when Mary came upstairs to tell her that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam were joining them along with Charles. Elizabeth was surprised to find herself very tired all of the sudden, and asked Mary to make her excuses. She had crawled back in to bed and fallen asleep almost at once, not waking until the next day.

She thought she might be a little better prepared to face Mr. Darcy that day, but it was not to be. Jane informed her that Mr. Darcy's manager had come to collect him that very morning and had taken him back to Pemberley. He left his car at Netherfield for Richard's use. Jane told her Mr. Darcy had given Charles his word that he would be back that coming weekend for the party, but this news did little to comfort her. He had left without a word, without a note or an explanation. He obviously wanted nothing more to do with her. She'd considered going back to bed then and there, but didn't want to alarm Jane. She was just glad her father was so busy getting things on the farm ready for winter. One look from him and her careful facade would have cracked. She'd gone to bed before supper that night as well, still feeling exhausted.

_And now..._She could hardly believe her rotten, horrible luck. It was the first time in her life that Elizabeth had ever considered running away from home. It was the first time the possibility of a tedious job and an anonymous life in some strange place had ever been appealing. Anything, _anything_ would be better than the prospect that had presented itself that afternoon.

She'd been sitting at the kitchen table, alone. She'd slept through breakfast and was picking at her late lunch. Kitty and Lydia were at school, and Mary was at her job at the Church (she typed their weekly newsletters and recorded the donations), Jane was at work and her mother was with Mrs. Phillips to discuss Jane's wedding plans. She was pushing her food around on her plate, not really hungry though she'd eaten little in the past few days. She was planning on doing some vocal warm-ups and exercises that morning. Charles had asked her to sing at the party, and she had just the song in mind. Contemplating music as a means of channeling her misery, she'd not realized she wasn't alone in the room until she heard the chair beside hers scrape against the floor. She looked up, startled.

"Mister Collins! You scared me half to death!" She put a hand over her heart and tried to laugh. It sounded false in her ears. She noticed Mr. Collins looking at her very severely, his heavy upper lip slightly dewy with sweat. His shirt was buttoned up to the top button, which was too tight, making it look as though he was spilling out of his collar. He leaned in close to her.

"My dear Elizabeth. I'm sure I've made it obvious, my feelings and my intentions towards you."

Elizabeth could only think of how he said 'feelings' as 'feeluns', she could not honestly process Mr. Collins trying to court her at that moment. Her disbelief didn't hinder him in any way, however, and he continued.

"I understand that you may have expected something...different than a life as a minister's wife, but I can promise you that with me you will have everything that a woman of your standing could ever want for."

Mr. Collins either didn't notice Elizabeth's look of distaste or he thought he was being helpful by adding, "I _had _noticed that you seemed...partial to Mr. Darcy before...but my dear, let me to say that it's better that nothing should come of it. You shouldn't get your hopes up to aspire towards a match with someone as prominent as the nephew of Mrs. Catherine deBourgh." Elizabeth had never been so appalled. Her mind reeled and she suppressed a manic laugh that was threatening to escape. Unabated, Mr. Collins was determined to outdo himself that day, and went so far as to put one damp, meaty hand on her leg, between her knee and her thigh, and squeezed.

"Mr. Collins!" she shouted, jumping up from the table. She was a little alarmed to see her outburst didn't phase the man in the slightest. He remained seated at the table, looking placidly at her.

"Sir I appreciate your kind offer", she lied, "but I could _never_ accept it." There was no change in his calm expression, which Elizabeth thought did not bode well.

"My dear cousin," he said "you ought to remember that despite your...um, _appeal_, you might never get another proposal. Now," he stood up and approached her, rubbing his palms together, "I've already talked to your mother and she supports my decision, and I will speak to your father before the party." Ignoring her stricken face, Mr. Collins reached out and pulled one of her curls through his fingers, tugging it slightly. Elizabeth was suddenly very uneasy with the look that crossed his face. He leaned in close enough for Elizabeth to feel his hot breath on her neck and said "There is no need for such modesty, my dear, but I will humor you a little while longer." He gave the lock of her hair another gentle tug, "A loving doe, a graceful deer..."

He did not finish quoting Proverbs chapter twenty two, verse three for crying out in sudden, blinding pain.

Elizabeth didn't even realize what had happened until she heard Mr. Collins bellow, and saw him bent over double, clutching side of his head. She was aware of a warm throb in her fist and understood that she'd finally successfully boxed someone's ear. "Mr. Collins," she said with shaky composure, "please consider this my final answer to your proposal." And with that she left the house and began to run.

Now, lying in the red dirt on the edge of Longbourn's north fields, she was at last cried out, and allowed herself to drift off. She had not noticed the darkening sky. She had only one thought before falling asleep. _I am utterly alone._

Jane looked warily at the sky, which had deepened into full dusk. She and her sisters had been home for for about an hour, and Elizabeth was still nowhere to be seen. Her father hadn't seen her all day, he remarked that he in fact had seen very little of her in the past two days and wanted Jane to make sure she wasn't coming down with something. Jane had checked Elizabeth's room, the pecan tree, she'd rang Charlotte Lucas and had even called Charles to see if Elizabeth happened to stop by Netherfield that day. He swore he hadn't seen her, and asked Jane to ring him again if she didn't come home soon.

Jane checked with Mr. Collins, who was abed with a headache. He told Jane in a biting tone that he'd not seen Elizabeth since just after lunchtime. Jane bit her tongue, she was normally not so easily angered, but something about the man's attitude frustrated her. Couldn't he tell how worried everyone was? Mary rang Mrs. Phillips, though Jane knew Elizabeth wouldn't have gone there. She had about as much patience for their aunt as she did for their mother. After another half-hour had passed, Charles Bingley and Richard Fitzwilliam had shown up, apparently at Mr. Bennet's request, in case a search had to be organized. Almost everyone at Longbourn was beside themselves with worry over Elizabeth.

* * *

Richard was tired, angry, and very anxious. When he'd first heard from Bingley that Jane had phoned looking for Elizabeth, his first thoughts had been of Wickham. Darcy had brought Richard up to speed on the whole situation, and they agreed that it would be just like the devil to use an innocent woman to hurt Darcy. _And me_, he thought. But he'd reluctantly ruled out Wickham, since Richard had spent most of his day following him.

He'd made some phone calls and thought it would be simple enough to get Wickham out of Meryton, but he was more interested in trying to get the man discharged. So for now he would watch, and wait. It was a dull business as he'd spent most of his afternoon slinking up and down main street. Once he'd seemed interested in something on the low brick wall that surrounded the library, otherwise Richard could hardly recall the last time he'd had such a tedious day.

Richard was also angry at Darcy for leaving without a word to Elizabeth. "She'd at least want a note or something! What do you think she's going to think when she finds out you've just gone?"

"She doesn't want to see me, Dick. She would've come down for dinner last night if she did. I can only hope she'll see me at the party." Richard had wanted to kick his good cousin in the head. _What an undeserving bonehead!_ "Well, I hope Georgie can get through that numb skull of yours. You are past the point of reason, the only thing that will work for you now is a good switching."

Elizabeth was coming around, disoriented by the darkness, not knowing where she was or exactly how she'd gotten there. She was shivering, and her hands and feet were almost completely numb. She tried to sit up but could only manage to raise herself halfway, resting her weight on one forearm. The earth and sky tilted crazily as a wave of dizziness swept through her. She realized she was very weak, between the cold, the exhaustive run and the fact that she'd eaten very little in days.

"Come on, Lizzy." she said out loud. "You must rally." She managed to sit up fully and wondered how long it would take her to return to the house at this pace. She became angry with herself for her careless behavior.

"Sleeping for days, not eating a bite. Lizzy Bennet, you are a stupid, stupid girl." she scolded herself.

She slowly sat up, and was eventually able to stand. Once she had her two feet on the ground, she felt a little more steady. She looked down at herself and clucked her tongue at the dirt that covered her pants and blouse. She pulled a twig and some leaves out of her hair and tossed them aside as she walked. "How very Ophelia." she said to no one at all.

Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Collins had told her family of her assault. She felt a fierce satisfaction for what she'd done. She only hoped he would say something to her father, just to give Elizabeth the pleasure of seeing the man chased off the property. As she slowly made her way home, she allowed herself to think of a far different man, and everything that had happened between them. She wondered if she had really known Mr. Darcy at all. Her reason told her that a month was not sufficient enough time to learn a person's character, but her heart refused to listen. She could not reconcile the Mr. Darcy who had run from the room with the one that had begged her not to call him a friend. She could only resign herself to put both men out of her mind, and carry on with her life.

"And I will begin with dinner and a bath." she said out loud. Soon she came in to sight of Longbourn, the lights burning a warm welcome from the windows.

There was a good deal of commotion with Elizabeth's arrival back at Longbourn. Jane stood looking out the front window, Mary kept watch at the back. When she saw Elizabeth staggering towards the back door, she shouted to the party that had gathered there "There she is! She's coming in now!" If Caroline Bingley could have seen Elizabeth as she stood in the door, pale and covered in dirt and leaves, she would have run away in terror.

As it was Caroline was not there, but Charles was. He'd been concerned, knowing Jane kept a cool head and wasn't one to worry without cause. Richard had insisted on coming along, the two of them with Mr. Bennet were planning on forming a search party if she hadn't shown up when she did. Richard was appalled at the sight of her. Not the dirt and twigs, he secretly thought that the dirt and leaves made her look even more beautiful, like some kind of barbarian queen. What bothered him was how pale she was, her cheeks slightly sunken in and the circles under her eyes looked almost like bruises. Her eyes were red and swollen, with all the sparkle gone out of them. Richard busied himself looking at Mrs. Bennet's teapot collection long enough to mutter a few choice words he'd use the next time he saw Darcy. He couldn't help but notice that when she first came in through the door, her eyes scanned the room as though she were looking for someone. She seemed surprised to see Richard there, but by no means displeased. He thought it might be Darcy she looked for, and wondered if he should do something on his cousin's behalf, even if he was the most undeserving of men.

The whole ordeal had been quite too much for Mrs. Bennet's nerves, and she'd been in her room all evening. Kitty and Lydia had gone up to let her know when Elizabeth had returned home, and to Elizabeth's mortification everyone present could hear her carrying on.

"Kitty, tell your sister she can't run around, all hours of the day and night like some wild thing! How does she think she'll secure Mr. Collins if he sees what a foolish, headstrong girl she is?" Elizabeth ground her teeth at the mention of Mr. Collins, and did not miss the sharp look from Richard at her mother's mention of "securing" the minister.

Mr. Bennet could not even bother to be amused by his wife's antics that evening, as he'd been so worried about what had become of Elizabeth. Even seeing her walk in the door under her own power hand not set his mind at ease, and it was evident to him that clearly _something_ was wrong. As Mrs. Bennet was still carrying on about the state of her nerves, Mr. Bennet looked at Elizabeth and asked if she was all right.

"I am fine, Papa." Mr. Bennet only narrowed his eyes at her, but decided to leave it for now. His wife was airing the household business for company as it was, he wouldn't add to it. Instead, he barked orders at his other children.

"Jane, Mary, you make sure Lizzy eats something this very minute. And if she won't, then I'll have to get Mr. Bingley and Mr. Fitzwilliam to hold her down so you can force-feed her. "

"Papa..."

"Don't you 'papa' me, Elizabeth June Bennet. You are in enough trouble as it is, young lady." He said this last with his usual sardonic smile, so that Elizabeth knew she was forgiven for tonight.

"Yes, Papa." she said in mock obedience.

Mr. Bennet didn't mind the dirt as he kissed the top of his daughter's head. He was glad nobody realized how afraid he'd really been.

* * *

"William?" Georgiana stood in the doorway of Darcy's study, holding two glasses of cider. He looked up and smiled at his sister. She seemed to have grown a good inch or two since he'd seen her last. He was impressed by the young lady she was turning out to be. Though she didn't remember their mother, Darcy did, and was grateful that his sister seemed to have inherited many of her mannerisms. He could see it in the way she walked across a room, or the way she looked at him now with her head slightly tilted to the left.

"Come on in, Georgie. I'm getting nowhere with this anyway." he balled up the paper he'd been writing on, threw it at the wastebasket and missed. There were many other such pieces of paper on the floor of the office, and Georgiana suggested that he should either work on his throwing arm or move the wastebasket closer to his desk.

"Yes, I seem to do nothing _but _miss these days." he grumbled as he took the glass and plopped down on the sofa next to his sister. Georgiana was thoughtful for a moment, then decided she would share what she knew.

"William. Does all this," she motioned to the wads of paper on the floor, "have to do with a lady?" He gave her a pointed look over his glass but said nothing. She continued, "It's Elizabeth Bennet, am I right?" Darcy laughed humorlessly. "Still reading letters in church, Georgie?" Georgiana blushed but kept going. She'd managed to work up her courage thus far, she couldn't stop now.

"When I read your letter, I thought that the name was somehow familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Then I remembered-"

"Richard." He interrupted her. "Yes, she's the same woman." He smiled wanly at his sister. "You always did eavesdrop, you little scamp." Georgiana sniffed and assumed a lofty expression. "I didn't eavesdrop, I _overheard_."

"Yes, you used to _overhear_ Richard and I quite a lot. A regular tattle-tale you were." He reached out and ruffled her hair.

"William, Really!" she said, smoothing her hair with her hands. She looked back at her brother with concern. "How did you find out it was the same person?"

"Easy enough. I put them together in the same room, it was fairly obvious they were already acquainted." he said bitterly.

"What! Richard's in Meryton? Why? Is there still something between them, what about Claire?"

Darcy sighed and took his sister's hand, squeezed it reassuringly. "I didn't want to bring it up, but I suppose it's better to be entirely up-front with you." He gave her hand another squeeze before continuing. "I hoped I would never have to see him again, much less talk about him to you, but you should know that George Wickham is living in Meryton." Georgiana yanked her hand from her brother's and went to stand by the window, her back to him. He kept speaking, though she did not face him. "It seems as though he's in the Guard now. I asked Richard to help me keep an eye on him and maybe make some inquiries through the Army. He showed up almost as soon as I asked, that's how much he cares about you. How much we _both_ care about you." Darcy walked over to where Georgiana stood and put his hands on her shoulders. "We'd both do anything to protect you, Georgie."

Georgiana looked out the window and thought about her father. She wondered if she would have acted so foolishly if he were still there. When he was alive, Will was more of a brother than a parent, and never seemed to mind her tagging along when he would go fishing, or walking through the woods. She remembered that he even taught her how to swim and ride a bicycle. When their father was alive, they were always together. But after he died, William had the businesses to run and the farms to look after, and Georgiana found that she was suddenly an only child. If she hadn't been so alone, so _lonely_, would she have fallen so easily for George Wickham?

Ever since the debacle in New York, she'd been angry with herself for being so stupid, and a small part of her hand been angry with the men in her life, her father and Will and Richard. She wiped the few angry tears from her face, and when she was able to turned to face her brother. "Thank you for telling me." She gave him a brief hug and went back to the sofa. "Now" she said, giving him a measuring stare, "tell me everything else."

Darcy sighed and returned to his seat. He took a deep breath and began to talk. He held nothing back (except for his stint as a peeping tom), and only stopped occasionally to clarify something for Georgiana. It took him well over an hour to relay the whole tale, and by the time he finished he was surprised to see his sister giving him her own version of the famous Darcy Scowl.

"So you just left." she said blandly.

"It wasn't so easy as all that." He answered uncomfortably. "I _did_ try to see her. I will see her again, in a few days at the party."

"But you just left." she repeated, as though he were missing the most obvious thing in the world. She chuckled and said "Richard was right to whack you over the head with a book. You're just lucky I don't have a stick right now, or I'd whack you myself."

An idea occurred to him, and he walked over to his desk, gathering up the papers he had been working on. Taking them back to the sofa, he spoke to his sister in his most conciliatory tone. "Well, if you can curb your violence for a little while, I believe there _is_ something you can help me with. "

"Were you writing her a letter, telling her what a dunce you are?" she teased. Laughing, he showed her what he was trying to do, and a light came on behind her eyes. Together, they eagerly set to work.

* * *

Lydia ran around the corner to the library. She only had a few moments while Kitty and Maria dawdled in the five and dime. She searched the low brick wall, he'd told her to look for the one brick that was darker than the others. Soon she found it and, looking around to make sure she was unobserved, pulled at the discolored brick. It came out easier than she'd expected, revealing a small, dirty compartment. In it was a piece of paper, folded in half. She removed it and quickly replaced the brick, running back to the five and dime before Kitty and Maria realized she was gone. The note seemed to burn her through her pocket, and she'd taken a moment to see the neat, compact script on the front of the folded sheet.

To L., From R.

Lydia thought of the box under her bed, an old cigar box her father had let her keep. There were already several notes stashed away in that box, under scraps of ribbon, loose buttons, and a few photographs. She would add this note to the growing collection tonight.


	16. Convergence

_Just wanted to make a quick note and thank everyone for reading! I've changed my settings to allow anonymous reviews, so have at it!_

* * *

Darcy could hardly concentrate on the road in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, anxious to be back at Netherfield. Even in his Jaguar roadster, the countryside didn't didn't fly by fast enough. He was impatient to be out of the gently rolling hills and into the piney lowlands, closer to _her_. He hadn't seen Elizabeth in almost a week, and had miserably felt every minute of it. After his confrontation with Richard, he'd lain awake for hours, trying to think of any way that he could redeem himself in Elizabeth's eyes.

He had to admit now how horribly he'd behaved that night. He'd gone to Longbourn with Charles and Richard for the sole purpose of throwing himself at her feet and begging her forgiveness. When her sister came downstairs and told them that Elizabeth wouldn't be coming down to dinner, he'd felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. _It serves me right, _he'd thought at the time. He could tell from the look on Richard's face that his cousin felt the same.

He'd managed to sneak upstairs during dinner that night. Finding her door had been easy, it was the only one that was closed. He stood outside of her room for several minutes, tracing a hand over the door and saying softly, "Elizabeth, let me in". Most people thought of him as a millionaire, when in truth his fortune was just over a billion. The Darcys were what was known as 'old money', being one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the country, peers of the Vanderbilts and the Gettys. Yet at that moment, he would have given up every penny just to have her open the door.

Now he could only wait and hope. If he'd truly ruined everything, he would have no one to blame but himself. Darcy prayed that what he carried in his pocket would be some measure of his salvation. If he could give her some small happiness, regardless of how things stood between them, he would consider himself lucky.

He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair, a dead giveaway when he was frustrated or anxious. He would have to run the gauntlet when he returned to Netherfield. Between the damned awkward situation with Richard and Elizabeth, there was still Wickham to deal with, and Caroline to avoid. _Nothing is ever as easy as it should be. _At least not for him! Everything had worked out smoothly enough for Charles, and Darcy could not help but be jealous at his friend's good fortune. At least Charles could be certain of Jane's feelings, where as Darcy could only hope that the next time Elizabeth saw him, she wouldn't reach for her slingshot.

* * *

The residents of Longbourn were all in an uproar. The day of the party had finally arrived. Mr. Bennet thought that the spectacle of five young women (and one not-so-young woman) getting ready for a party was something the likes of which National Geographic had never seen. There were howls of frustration, coos of delight, screeches of anger, and squeals of anticipation. Mr. Bennet wisely chose to remain in his office. He could hear Elizabeth practicing, Mrs. Bennet shouting for the housekeeper, Kitty and Lydia fighting over a pair of shoes. _It really is the animal kingdom out there, _he thought with amusement.

He looked over the top of his book, unable to concentrate on _The Count of Monte Cristo_ over the noise in the house. He looked forward to peace and quiet, which he was surely not likely to have again until after Jane's wedding. His mind traveled from his eldest daughter's engagement to the proposal Mr. Collins had made to Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet's face wrinkled in distaste, and he was glad his cousin would be leaving the next day. He was certain there was _something_ he wasn't being told, but Elizabeth had only confirmed that there had been a proposal, and that she'd refused. Mr. Collins had little to say on the matter himself, he'd appealed to Mr. Bennet to try to persuade Elizabeth to change her mind, an idea that had been quickly and soundly rejected.

* * *

Charles Bingley never believed in luck, good or bad. He always believed that if you worked hard and treated others with respect you would be rewarded with a comfortable life and good friends. Luck, he believed, was a lazy person's hope. Of course all that went out the window the night he met Jane Bennet. For the first time, Charles praised his own good fortune. As long as he lived, he would never forget the first time he saw her in the dance hall, her blue eyes twinkling. It was as if all the air had gone out of the room, he struggled to breathe again. He'd felt what his grandfather would have called "the thunderbolt", and he knew within a matter of moments that this was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. And now that he knew his fate, he couldn't wait to tell the world.

Unfortunately, the first person he told that evening was his sister Caroline. They had never been close as children, and she had always found a secret pleasure in purposely antagonizing and provoking her brother, and now was no exception. Everyone would be arriving in a matter of hours, and Charles thought he would give Caroline fair warning before he announced his engagement to the party. He hoped that she could at least pretend to be happy for him, especially when surrounded by friends and neighbors. Her reaction had been everything he'd feared. She'd gone straight over to the bar, poured a glass of wiskey, and knocked it straight back. After a moment she looked at him with a jaundiced eye.

"Charles, tell me you are not serious."

"I'm deadly serious, Caroline."

"But she's a nobody!" Caroline blurted out. Charles' face became steely and grave. "While I can't say I'm surprised to hear that from you, I am disappointed."

"_You're _disappointed? Oh_ that is rich_, Charles! What do you think our mother would say?"

Charles Bingley knew exactly what his mother would have said, and he knew it would have sounded pretty much word for word like what Caroline said now.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, and Caroline, not knowing when to quit, kept going.

"I certainly hope you aren't thinking of giving that woman our mother's ring! She'd roll over in her grave if she knew you'd given it to some country nobody who will probably wear it while she feeds the chickens!"

"That's Enough!" Charles bellowed. Caroline paled and gripped the edge of the bar but was silent. Charles considered what he would say to her. He'd always understood that part of Jane's calm manner and sweet temper were traits adopted to make up for something lacking in a parent, in Jane's case her mother's "social graces". For Charles, he'd always been outgoing and friendly because his mother had been anything but. He hadn't been blind to her faults, she'd never been a warm person or a particularly loving mother, but today was the first day he could recall ever being glad that she was no longer alive. He thought of his sweet Jane and felt a pang of sorrow that his family couldn't be as happy for them as her own had been.

He approached Caroline and spoke in a low, clear voice. He wanted to be perfectly understood.

"Caroline, you will either accept Jane Bennet as my future wife or you will find somewhere else to live, starting right now. If I ever hear you refer to her as 'a nobody' again, you'll be cut out of my estate, that's a promise." He began to walk away and stopped suddenly, remembering something.

"As far as our mother's ring goes, I'd never dream of giving it to Jane. She deserves something far better. Something like her...more elegant, less gaudy. " Ignoring his sister's shocked expression, he continued. "And we'll be making the announcement tonight, if you can't at least _pretend_ to be happy in front of everyone, I suggest you make sure you're absent. Now I think I'll go get ready."

As he walked away, Caroline wasted no time in pouring herself another drink.

* * *

Richard didn't know if he'd ever enjoyed a party less as he was Bingley's. Of course the Bingleys had pulled out all the stops, and they had also the luck of a warm evening. Paper lanterns hung from the tree branches, swaying gently in the balmy breeze. The air carried all the scents of autumn, but there was none of fall's sharpness in the air that night. The band was actually rather good, and the tables were piled with food and drink. Richard just wasn't in any mood for it. He'd spent most of his day trailing Wickham in his off-duty hours, which had been more of the man's drugstore cowboy nonsense. He'd looked forward to speaking with Claire all that afternoon, but when he'd called her office, the secretary told him that Claire had left early to go to the doctor. When he'd ended that call he almost walked into an altercation between Bingley and his sister. He'd never been fond of Caroline Bingley, but had been thoroughly disgusted by some of the things he'd heard her say.

His only relief was that Darcy had arrived back at Netherfield. He was certain that Darcy's first order of business would be to set things right with Elizabeth, but when the Bennets had arrived the damned fool had been no where to be seen! He'd come out and asked to speak with Mr. Bennet in private, and for all Richard knew they were hiding out in Bingley's study, two curmudgeons shunning the world. Making matters worse was that he was seated near Elizabeth, across the table and several seats up, but not close enough to talk. _Just close enough to torment._

She wore a dress that was a deep wine color, and he noticed that the skirt moved like a cloud around her legs. He saw how the color made her skin look more creamy, her hair more glossy, her eyes almost black. None of these observations made him feel better. In fact, he thought he was beginning to resent her a little for it. Why did she still have to be so damned lovely? He thought she must be a demon summoned straight from hell, devised for his own personal torment. He scowled and moved to speak to the person to his left, turning his head away from her.

It was Elizabeth's uncle, Mr. Phillips, who sat to his left. Richard's mood was not improved by the man's very dull conversation. He wondered if hunting was all anyone could talk about around here. _I should go back to Minnesota first thing in the morning. Let Darcy deal with Wickham, Caroline, Elizabeth, all of it. Let them all go to hell!_ Someone put a plate of dessert in front of him. Without looking he cut it with his fork and took a bite.

He dropped his fork with a _clang_ when the taste of the warm peach pie flooded his mouth. Unable to help himself, he looked up at Elizabeth. She was talking to Charlotte Lucas, laughing her low, bubbling laugh. After a moment she seemed to become aware of his stare and turned her eyes to him and smiled. It was a small, sad smile of understanding.

Richard had never in his life felt so foolish. What he had done to this poor girl! All it took was that one taste of sweet peach pie to bring him back to a rainy afternoon in Charleston. He realized his error now. With the war, the death of his brother, his estrangement with his father, and his own injury, he'd spent years in total darkness. And then one day on the beach, he'd happened on to a light, and had clung to it for everything it was worth. He'd idealized her, romanticized her, put her on a pedestal and treasured her memory, so great was his gratitude. Those days in Charleston had been the first time in years that he'd felt anything other than despair, and over time he'd convinced himself that Elizabeth Bennet was something more than human, she was divine and unattainable.

But she wasn't, he realized. She was just a girl! A girl who had been sweet to him, who had liked him and cheered him through some of the darkest days of his life. How unfair it was to her that he should still look at her as something to be revered, idolized. She was a living, breathing, flesh and blood woman, and what was more, _she did not love him!_ Of course he never hoped that she would, but it had never before occurred to him that _he might not love her._

_Oh Claire, _he thought. _I've been such a fool._

* * *

Darcy had finally come to an understanding with Mr. Bennet, though it had not been easy. He could see where Elizabeth got her stubborn streak from. He came outside, his eyes automatically seeking her out. When he found her at last, he thought maybe he should have stayed inside. She was so beautiful it broke his heart. She sat so still and silent, a wistful sort of smile on her face. He followed her gaze, and his insides went cold when he saw who it was she looked at.

Richard looked as though he'd been struck, and Darcy was just moving forward to find out what was going on, when Charles approached Elizabeth and asked her something. She smiled more readily, though not perhaps naturally, and went over to where the band played on their small stage. Charles had spared no expense for the event, and it had not disappointed. Watching Elizabeth approach the microphone, Darcy knew that it would soon be worth every penny. He thought that his heart would jump out of his chest when she looked up and met his eyes. It was the first time she'd seen him since that night at Netherfield. She looked away, but not before he saw her eyes harden towards him. He leaned up against one of the house's columns, waiting.

As she sang, he felt that same astonishment wash over him. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to breathe normally. The first time he'd heard her sing, he'd been intrigued. The second time, enchanted. This time, the third time, he was utterly paralyzed. Her voice bound him tight as a spell, and he felt the slow, subtle sting of the song she had chosen.

Fool that I am,

For falling in love with you.

fool that I am,

For thinking you loved me, too.

Fool that I am,

For hoping you'd understand.

And thinking you

Would listen, too,

The things I'd planned.

But we couldn't see eye to eye

So, darling, this is goodbye.

But I still care,

Fool that I am.

She finished the song on one long, sweet note, then smiled and bowed as everyone clapped for her. Her eyes found his again, a mixture of sadness and triumph. He saw how they glittered with unshed tears, and it smote him. He watched as she quickly exited the stage, rushing in to the side garden alone. Without a second thought, he followed.

She stood with her back to him. He came within a foot of her and stopped, helpless. He was mesmerized by the line of her neck, the deep v of the back of her dress, the small birthmark on her shoulder blade. His heart pounded in his ears, every part of him begged for her. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth." he rasped. She shuddered, and turned. Her face was unreadable, wet with tears. Unable to stop himself, he fell to his knees and, reaching out for her, wrapped his arms around her small waist. He heard her heart beating sure and steady as her slender arms came to cradle his head, her fingers delving into his hair.

"_Oh god, Elizabeth!" _he managed to croak out. They stayed like that for some time.


	17. Declarations & Resolutions

Mr. Bingley could not have chosen a more perfect night for his party. The skies were cloudless and star-studded; the breeze playfully rustled the leaves on the great oaks, and the sound of music and laughter was all that was to be heard at the large house on Netherfield road. There were two guests who had been missing from the party for some time, but aside from one or two people, no one really noticed their absence.

Darcy buried his face in the fabric of Elizabeth's dress, his arms tightening around her waist. He was a tall man, and even kneeling the top of his head almost reached her chest. In response, she kissed the top of his head, loving the tickling sensation of his wavy hair against her skin. She put her hands on his head and moved it so she could better see his face.

"William...William, why did you leave me?" her voice was solemn and quiet, barely a whisper, but it was enough. He stood and put a hand on each of her shoulders, his thumbs caressed the base of her throat, making her shiver. .

"I'm so very sorry. I never meant…I know you'll never forgive me-" he haltingly began.

"Yes I will." She interrupted, and then gave him a wry smile. "You're an idiot. And you aren't forgiven yet, Will Darcy." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, long and thoroughly. She didn't hesitate as she twined her arms around his neck. She had spent so many hours being angry with him that she'd given little thought as to how much she missed him. Now having him here, being in his arms, feeling the heat between their bodies and their soft, wet mouths was almost more than she could bear. She breathed deep, drinking the moment in for it's perfection.

After a few moments, he looked down at her face. He lovingly traced a finger across her eyebrow, down her cheekbone, and over her lips. "Elizabeth," he said softly, "Lizzie. Say you'll marry me. Say yes and we'll tell everyone tonight."

She laughed with her whole being and pulled him close to her, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Yes".

No sooner had she spoken the word than she felt herself lifted off of her feet. He practically ran as he carried her. "Will Darcy where do you think you're taking me!"

"Someplace more private!" He practically growled in her ear. She giggled nervously but clung tighter to him as he opened the door to the servant's entrance and carried her in to the house.

* * *

When he said 'someplace more private', Elizabeth never would have thought he meant Charles Bingley's study. She found that she was both disappointed and relieved at this turn of events, and resolved to put such thoughts away for later study. Darcy cleared some blueprints and other assorted papers off of a chair and asked her to sit down. He took the chair that sat opposite hers and pulled it close, so their knees touched when he sat down. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small velvet box and a thick envelope. The envelope he kept, but the box he placed on her knee and bid her to open it.

She wasn't sure what to expect from a man as wealthy as Darcy, but was surprised and pleased by the simple oval diamond. It was neither ostentatious nor gaudy, was finely set and sparkled in welcome, as if it had been waiting for her. Darcy plucked the ring out of the box and held it for a moment. "This ring was my mother's. I wish you could have met her, I know she would've loved you." He took her left hand and slipped the ring on. It fit perfectly. "See? It's must have belonged to you all along." He took her hand again and kissed it. Elizabeth had never had anything so fine, and allowed herself to admire the way it looked on her finger. "It's beautiful, William." She said contentedly. She leaned over and kissed him once, softly and lingering.

Straightening herself, she nodded toward the envelope he still held. "And that?" she asked. He seemed more agitated now than he had when he'd presented her with the ring. He toyed with the envelope for a moment.

"I wanted to do something, _anything_ for the way I acted last week. I didn't know if you would ever even speak to me again." He ran a hand through his hair, his face miserable. " As it is, I don't think I can explain it fully until _after _you've read what's in here. And before you even open it, let me just tell you that I've already spoken with your father and he's agreed to allow it."

Her eyebrows rose in bewilderment. "William, what on earth?" she asked. He put the envelope in her hands and sat back, fidgeting with the empty jewel box.

Elizabeth opened the envelope began to read, her eyes widening in disbelief.

* * *

_He can't be serious. This had got to be a joke! _Elizabeth had looked over the papers at least half a dozen times and still could hardly make sense of anything except for the word at the top of the page, 'Deed'.

"You're…you're giving me property?" she choked out. He smiled and took her hand.

"It's a ranch, actually. I think I've told you we breed Thoroughbreds, and some other stock. I used to keep my horses there, but I wanted to have them closer to Pemberley. I had a new place built on some land I own in Highland, and since then this place has been empty. Well, that's not true, it's being rented right now. But the land is yours, if you want to use it for yourself you can, or you can keep the money paid by tenants as your own personal income."

"Well, knock me over with a feather." Elizabeth was stunned. She looked at Darcy wonderingly. "Why…" He reached out and put a finger on her lips, silencing her.

"Because you deserve something that's just yours, apart from your father and apart from me. And I knew you could handle it. I thought that, even if you wouldn't take me back, I could give you _something_ that would make you happy, with no strings attached. And you told me once you couldn't be happy unless you had your toes in the dirt."

At the mention of her father Elizabeth seemed to come around a bit. "How did you get my father to agree to this, William?" He chuckled, remembering the prizefight he'd had with her father in that very room. "At first, nothing I said seemed to convince him. But I'm very persistent, and eventually he agreed on one concession."

"And that would be…?"

"Well, regardless of what I _thought_ you were going to say, I had to ask you to marry me. Which obviously I'd already planned on doing." He held up the ring box.

"I don't know what to say." She was still in shock, pleasantly so. Darcy took the deed from her hands and put them back in his coat pocket "for safekeeping", then pulled her into his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, buried his face in her neck and murmured, "I think we've talked enough. I told you I would make everything up to you, and I plan to start right now."

* * *

"Is my hair straight?" Elizabeth asked, smoothing her curls with her hand.

"You look beautiful."

"That isn't what I asked, but I suppose it'll have to do." she sighed. Darcy laughed and planted a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Papa is going to take a switch to both of us when we get back, we've been gone for so long." Elizabeth blushed, thinking of all the kisses and caresses they'd exchanged in the last quarter hour. She still felt a wild heat on her neck, but made an effort to appear calm. She knew that she was inexperienced, but somehow every time he touched her, it felt natural. It felt right.

"I don't think so. I told him I would need some time to present you with my proposal, er..proposals in private. He wasn't keen on the idea but agreed." Darcy tried to brush the grass stains off of his trousers with little success. "Is this noticeable? I could always go to my room and change."

"Oh no you don't! I am not walking out with you wearing different pants, not after spending a half hour alone in the house with you! Why, what would Miss Caroline say?" she laughed and surveyed the knees of his pants.

"Besides, you're being overly fussy, nobody's going to notice it on a galloping horse." She said decidedly. He snorted a laugh and took her hand, leading her back out to the party. "With the way you look tonight, I doubt anyone will even notice me" he said as they walked out the door.

He was only half-right.

Two people in particular were very interested in where Darcy and Elizabeth had disappeared off to. Caroline saw the two walking arm-in-arm over to where Charles, Jane and Mr. Bennet stood. She couldn't believe it, Mr. Darcy letting that sassy bumpkin hang all over him! Seething, Caroline thought that this party could not be any more of a disaster.

Also interested in the disappearance and sudden re-appearance of Elizabeth and Darcy was his cousin Richard. He'd seen the stricken look on Darcy's face during her performance, and he secretly admired her for her choosing that song in particular. Darcy apparently needed no more punishment than to hear the woman he loved calling herself a fool for loving him. He'd witnessed the quick exit stage left of the both of them, and waited a few moments before casually walking near the garden entrance. What he'd seen when he walked by had been so intimate he felt as though he'd walked in on them making love. Richard was amazed to see his cousin, who couldn't even deign to dance with a woman, quite literally on his knees in front of Elizabeth. It was a haunting image, and Richard recalled the moment of clarity he'd experienced only minutes before. He'd realized Elizabeth was not a woman to be idolized, but maybe he was wrong. Perhaps she was not meant to be idolized by _him._

Richard wasn't sure how far he could trust this new-found wisdom of his, and decided he would return home within the next few days. He was suddenly very anxious to see Claire again.

"Could I have everyone's attention, please?" Charles called the party to order. "I want to thank all of my new friends and neighbors for your warm welcome in to your community." He paused while his guests applauded his generosity. "It is because of your warmth and hospitality that I wanted you all to be the first to know that soon I will be part of the Meryton family not just as a the owner of Netherfield, but as husband to one of your own, as Miss Jane Bennet has agreed to marry me!" The announcement caused such cries of delight from the ladies present it almost overshadowed the exclamations of chagrin (not a few of them laced with curses) from the single men. Doc Jones wondered if he would have fewer patients as a result of this news.

Charles wasn't finished speaking, and once the noise had died down some he asked for Mr. Bennet to come up to make an announcement of his own. Everyone quieted down and paid attention, as Thomas Bennet was known among his community as someone who rarely spoke, and when he did it seemed to be either in riddles or in jest. He began by thanking Mr. Bingley for the evening, and welcoming him both to Meryton and into the Bennet family.

"I now ask my friends and neighbors to brace themselves for yet another shock." He said with his usual wryness. "The Bennets will not be welcoming one son, but two. Our Elizabeth has just become engaged this very night to Mr. Darcy!"

There was absolute silence. Several people looked around for Elizabeth to see if this was another one of her pranks. She stood with Mr. Darcy, his arm around her shoulders. She smiled placidly at the questioning glances, while Mr. Darcy looked slightly uncomfortable by the sudden attention. Several awkward cries on congratulations were shouted and there was a smattering of applause, but not nearly so much as there had been for Bingley and Jane. Mrs. Bennet shouted "My Dear Lizzie!" so loudly that several people laughed heartily, Elizabeth among them. She was so happy not even her mother's flutterings bothered her.

Mr. Bennet still had one more _bon mot_ up his sleeve, and said "After so many years of living with all of these women, I for one am happy to welcome two men into the Bennet family. I have no doubt that they will both be as gray as me in no time. Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, I believe everyone here will raise a glass and join me in saying 'Good Luck'!" The party guests laughed and raised their glasses to the happy couples.

Two people in particular did not cheer. Caroline Bingley had been listening to her sister Louisa nattering on. She'd just taken a rather large sip of wine when Mr. Bennet made the announcement. So great was her shock her throat refused to cooperate, and rather than swallowing her wine she spat it back out in a great red fountain, right into the face of Mr. Hurst.

William Collins sat alone and unobserved, unconsciously rubbing his ear.

* * *

Claire was out of sorts. She drifted from room to room in her modest house on Selby Avenue. By the time she walked in to one room, she was unsure as to why she had, and would walk to the next room only to have the same results. She and Richard had been putting new tile in the kitchen when he was called away. She picked up one of the soft blue-green ceramic tiles and clasped it to her chest, not knowing why she did so. She walked over to the window and stared out at the skeletal branches of the bare maple in her front yard. _The next time I see leaves on that tree, everything will be different. _Her breath fogged the window, and she contented herself for a while by tracing shapes on the glass with her finger.

* * *

"I have to say I'm very surprised."

Elizabeth and Darcy both seemed confused by Richard's statement. Only Elizabeth's face hinted at a trace of mirth.

"Surprised that she didn't send you packing." Richard clarified, laughing at Darcy's scowl. Elizabeth looked up and her fiancee and smiled, remembering when she thought that dour look was somewhat frightening. Now that she understood it better, she found his awkwardness to be endearing, even a little funny.

"Well, I have always been one to do what people least expect." Elizabeth replied, her eyes dancing.

"When will you introduce Elizabeth to Georgiana?" Richard addressed his cousin. Elizabeth looked expectantly up at Darcy. "That is a very good question."

Darcy was very eager to not only introduce his sister to his beloved, but also to show Elizabeth her future home. He only hoped she would love it as much as she did Longbourn. "I suppose that depends on when we can _reasonably _leave Meryton. Don't we still have business here?" he asked. Richard waved his question away.

"Oh I'll make some calls and have that taken care of, he's all hat and no cattle anyway. I wanted to tell you I would be going back to Saint Paul in the next few days as it is."

Darcy seemed to be mulling something over. At last he asked Richard, "What about Preston? He's still on the payroll, and he can keep an eye on things here while you take care of things on your end." Richard nodded eagerly. Jack Preston, the private investigator who had looked into Wickham for them previously was a good friend of Richard's, they'd known each other since their college days at VMI. "I'm a little embarrassed that you thought of that before I did, dim as you are."

Darcy laughed and looked down at Elizabeth, who smiled radiantly. "Not so very dim", he said thoughtfully.

_Yes, _Richard thought, _Definitely time to go._


	18. While I breathe, I hope

_Sorry to those of you who get the Chapter Alerts, I have not uploaded any new chapters today but was splicing up the ones I had previously mashed together. HOWEVER. Hopefully either late tonight or early tomorrow chapter 19 will be up. Sorry for any misunderstandings!  
_

* * *

Anne sighed and suppressed a shudder when she saw Mr. Collins marching up the front path to Rosings House. She dreaded his almost daily visits to her mother, and had relished the two weeks when he had gone to visit family. Her mother Catherine had been less pleased, as Mr. Collins was her most effective spy and best source of local gossip. Anne thought the man was far better at scheming than he was at making sermons, as he never hesitated to disparage his own parishioners, at least not while he was in the front parlor at Rosings. In the short time before he became her mother's toady, Anne had liked Mr. Collins very little, and his roving eyes even less.

She took out her favorite object, a 1923 half-dollar coin. She rubbed her thumb over the surface and muttered "Liberty". The coin had been a gift from her father, a few months before he'd died in the train accident at Dusty Bend that had also taken nine members of the Jordan and Baker families. Anne had adored her father. When she was a little girl, he would pick her up and put her on his shoulders, and call her 'the world's tallest Anne'. She would squeal with delight and put her hands on his face to steady herself. She could still remember the feel of his whiskers under her hands.

When she was 11, she'd noticed the coin on his desk and had been drawn to the image of Lady Liberty's bold profile. He'd noticed her interest.

"Come here, Anne. Let me teach you a trick."

Anne had watched, fascinated, as he'd flipped the coin over the back of his knuckles, it almost seemed to be jumping. He'd taught her the trick, and told her it would help calm her anytime she felt tense or anxious. In the 13 years since, Anne had gotten very adept at this trick. She now flipped it rapidly, once, twice, three times before palming it and returning it to the pocket she had sewn in to all of her slips. Her mother had an affinity for money, and was known to be hard-fisted enough to knick loose change from her own daughter, and on occasion her servants.

"Let's just get it over with, child." Her maid put a sweater over Anne's shoulders and patted her comfortingly. Anne smiled at the woman who she had always considered to be her true mother. Evalina Jenkinson was known as "Mrs. Jenkinson" by her employer Catherine deBourgh, "Miss Evalina" to her friends and neighbors, and "Mama" to Anne, though Anne was wise enough never to call her this in front of Catherine. For her part, Mrs. Evalina Jenkinson loved Anne deBourgh as much as she did her own children, and had since the first time she had seen her as a precocious 5-year-old girl.

"It was a nice couple of weeks, wasn't it Mama?" Anne asked her companion. She'd never understood why her mother always insisted on Anne's presence for the Minister's visits, unless she thought she was training Anne in some way for the future. _Training for what?_ Anne wondered, _How to be an insufferable know-it-all?_

"As Mr. Frost likes to say, 'nothing gold can stay'. Now we'd better get ourselves downstairs before we're summoned."

Anne obeyed, already withdrawing in on herself. Since the death of Lewis deBourgh, Catherine had gone from overprotective to zealous in regards to her daughter. From time to time Anne would try to persuade Catherine to accompany her to visit Will and Georgiana at Pemberley, but she never budged. Once Anne asked if they could go stay at the house in Savannah for a while, only to be told it had been damaged in a fire years ago and was now uninhabitable. People who saw Anne at church or on visits to Rosings would come away with the impression that Catherine's daughter was odd, some even thought she was feeble. In fact, she was only resigned, and deeply bored. She often retreated into the world of her own daydreams, conjuring up grand tales, where she got to be the heroine rather than the damsel.

Anne was concocting a particularly classic sort of fantasy, horses, swords, evil queens and the like, when she walked into the parlor. Normally in these 'visits', her mother and Mr. Collins would be speaking in lowered tones about who'd run off with the maid and who was drinking on the sly. Today she was roused out of her daydream by the sound of her mother's belligerent shouting. Amazed, Anne backed up against the wall so that she might watch the scene while being out of her mother's purview.

Mr. Collins sat on the very edge of his chair, twisting his hat in his hands and chewing his lip. Anne thought it might be too much to hope for that he'd be leaving her mother's employ.

"This is unacceptable, Mr. Collins!" Her mother towered over the man, her face red and chest heaving.

"I promise you, ma'am I would've told him you thought so if I'd known.."

"HOW, how could he think I would allow this? The gall of that boy! And what now, what's to become of Anne?" Anne faltered at the sound of her name, wondering if she should make her presence known. Her mother continued unabated.

"I have a mind to go to Pemberley this instant and give him a piece of my mind!"

Anne sighed, relieved. Her mother was only talking about her ridiculous notion that she would one day marry her cousin Will Darcy. She had no desire to do so and had always known Will felt the same. Even if Will were only a 'kissing cousin' he was too moody, too serious. She'd had enough of moody and serious to last a lifetime. In any case, she thought that they were a little too closely related for her taste. Of course she knew her mother cared less about her daughter securing a spouse and more about securing the Darcy fortune.

"This is unbelievable, Darcy engaged to some gold-digger country bumpkin! Announcing it to the whole town! I've heard it said that nothing good has ever come out of Meryton!"

"Will is engaged?" Anne blurted out. She'd not meant to speak out loud but was so surprised by this news that she accidentally revealed her hiding spot. Her mother spun around and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"You can stop sounding so pleased about it, Anne deBourgh! I mean to put a stop to this nonsense AT ONCE."

Anne was nettled and could not stop her retort. "How do you plan to do that, _mother_? You know Will never changes his mind once it's set on something. Why can't you just be happy for him?"

"Happy for him! _HAPPY FOR HIM?_ Have you quite lost your mind, Anne? If you don't stop talking nonsense this instant I may have to have you put away." Anne's blood seemed to freeze in her veins. She tried not to see Mrs. Jenkinson's look of panic. Catherine didn't notice either woman's agitation.

"And you'd better hope that Darcy changes his mind."

"As it is Mr. Collins," Catherine turned back to the still-fidgeting minister, "I will have to think on this. I'm sure there is _something_ that can be done."

Anne was appalled that her mother would interfere in Will's life for her own purposes, that she'd disrupt what should be the happiest time in his life to satisfy her own greed. That was the moment that Anne decided that she'd had enough, forever. Retreating back upstairs, she began forming a desperate strategy. _Looks like I'm to be the damsel after all_.

"Mama, we have to do something." Anne said once she was back in the safety of her rooms.

"If I get caught helping you, she'll fire me or worse. What will happen to you then?"

Mrs. Jenkinson cupped Anne's pale face with her dark hands. She wasn't so much afraid of losing her livelihood as she was leaving the poor girl alone to the whims of her mother. She'd so often wanted to bundle the her up and bring her home, to a _real _home with warmth and laughter, not some elaborate jail.

"You know I'll have my own money from father when I turn twenty five, I'm going to take care of you, I promise!" Anne pled.

"That's not for another four months, girl! And I'm not worried about the money, I'm worried about _you_."

There was only one solution Anne could come up with. _Will, maybe Richard. All I know is that I can't stay here! _She cursed her mother for her mania, her coldness, and most of all for not having a damned telephone, which Catherine had always considered 'vulgar'. Anne grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled a hasty note before folding it small and handing it over to the other woman. "Please take this to the telegraph office, Mama. It's to go to Mr. Darcy's manager at Pemberley. The man's name is Hale."

The older woman looked over the paper quickly then searched her pocketbook. "I don't get my wages for another three days, I may be short..." she began and stopped to see Anne holding out a well-worn half dollar coin. "Use this." she said quietly, dropping it into Mrs. Jenkinson's palm.

* * *

No sooner had the taxi pulled away then Claire was running out the door, practically colliding with Richard. He threw down his suitcase so he could plunge his fingers through her hair, covering her face with kisses while murmuring "Sweet Claire".

Laughing, she stepped back and took his hand. "Let's go inside before the neighbors get an eyeful."

Richard pulled her back into his arms. "Hang the neighbors." he said playfully before kissing her fully on the mouth. Still holding her close, he grabbed his suitcase and walked inside. He saw that she looked pale and tired.

"Have you been feeling alright?" The happy glint in her eye was unexpected, and she smiled and told him that everything was as it should be.

"Yes, I think you're right about that." he said as he kissed her face and neck. Claire squealed as he picked her up in his arms, kicking the door shut with one foot.

* * *

Darcy was pleasantly surprised by the Gardiners. They'd made the trip up from Beaufort at their niece's request, and would accompany her to Pemberley. At their first meeting, Darcy was immediately impressed by their cultured, intelligent conversation. Edward Gardiner was nothing like his sister Fanny Bennet. He was well educated, good humored, and had a sharp business sense that had helped him build one of the most respected companies in the industry. They talked at length on export tariffs and market shares until Mrs. Gardiner cried that the ladies were 'bored to tears'.

Mr. Gardiner, in turn, almost immediately liked Elizabeth's soon-to-be husband. He'd of course heard much about the man through various industry channels. The word about Darcy was that he was a fair employer, but a hard, unsociable man with a moody disposition. He could hardly believe that this was the man his cheerful, vivacious niece was supposedly engaged to.

It only took one meeting to see that the man in question was not only sociable and friendly, he was genuine, kind, and obviously very much in love with Elizabeth. Darcy's invitation for fishing in Pemberley's trout streams won Mr. Gardiner's favorable opinion. But it was his request that Mr. Gardiner drive his new Jaguar roadster back up for him that won his undying loyalty.

"You've gone and charmed the socks right off of my aunt and uncle." Elizabeth teased him once they'd found a few minutes alone. They were walking hand in hand towards the pecan tree.

"But not you?" he asked, tugging on her hand. She smiled in response and lifted her pants to show her slippered, sock-less feet.

* * *

Caroline was at a loss. After years of careful planning, all of her hopes for the future went out the window no thanks to that boorish Eliza Bennet. She was best at thinking aloud, and used her sister Louisa as a sounding board.

"Well, I think _something _should be done. How can he think of exposing poor Georgiana to that woman? It's bad enough that Charles has to heap that ridiculous family on ours, but Georgiana is just a child, Louisa!"

"But Caroline, you can't honestly mean to say anything to Mr. Darcy. You know he's not a man to easily change his mind! And Jane is not so _very_ bad, I think she's actually a sweet girl."

"Oh Louisa! You're getting as soft as Charles, you're both impossible! No, I won't say anything directly to Mr. Darcy, but it shouldn't be so very difficult to persuade him that Eliza Bennet is a common gold digger."

"What on earth, Caroline? You can't know that!"

"Oh but I do have it from the maid that there was some scene here between Eliza and his cousin Fitzwilliam. She overheard that Jane telling Charles that there was some kind of _history_ there. And apparently they spent a good deal of time alone on the balcony the first night he was here. I gather it was _quite_ the reunion."

"No!" Louisa said, shocked. Caroline was only encouraged by this outburst.

"Yes! In fact, I heard that Mr. Darcy all but ran from the house that evening, and didn't come back until the middle of the night, three sheets to the wind!" She paused as if something just occurred to her. "You know what, Louisa? I don't think it would be so difficult to plant an idea there. I did notice that Fitzwilliam man staring quite a bit a Eliza during the party. I actually wonder now if there _isn't _something going on there."

"But he left already! If there really was something there, wouldn't he have stayed around, or gone with them to Pemberley?"

"Don't talk to me about Pemberley!" Caroline snapped. "It's bad enough I have to think about Eliza Bennet being there." She began to gather her purse, her coat and gloves.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, _we_ are going to pay a visit to our future sister in law." Caroline ignored her sister's wondering stare. She had other things on her mind, like how she was suddenly in very great need of a sample of Eliza Bennet's handwriting.

* * *

"Are...are you sure? Claire, really?" He was surprised by how hopeful his voice sounded. Richard had seldom thought about having children of his own, but now that it was a possibility he thought it was too good to be true.

Claire lay back against the pillows, covered only in the sheet. She smiled contentedly and told him again.

"You're going to be a father, Richard." He gasped in surprise and put a hand over her belly. She put her own hand on his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Richard was wonder-struck. He looked at their hands and whispered "A baby." He felt so many things in that moment. Joy at the thought of a child, his and Claire's, terror that he would somehow fail, sadness that he had so little family to share his joy, a deep shame for the way he'd allowed himself to get so caught up in Elizabeth while Claire carried their child. He wanted to say something but no words seemed adequate. Finally, he asked her what she had planned in two days time.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because, we're getting married." She smiled gently and touched his neck, her fingers lingering on the scar there.

"It's a date, handsome."

Richard now understood how it was in a woman's power to bring a man to his knees.

* * *

Georgiana couldn't remember the last time she felt so nervous. Of course she was thrilled that things had worked out for William. But she couldn't stop herself from wondering what kind of a woman it took to capture both the heart of her cousin and her brother. Neither were what anyone would call 'easy to please'. For herself, Georgiana could only hope to finally have a woman in her life who could understand her without judging, advise her without leading, and guide her without agenda. _And someone to talk to about boys wouldn't be so bad either._

She had tried on at least four different dresses, unsure of how she wanted to come across. Did she want to look refined? Accessible? Smart? She played with her heavy brown hair, parting it this way and that before giving up all together and pinning it up. She tried to calm her nerves by practicing at the piano, and was halfway through her fourteenth rendition of _Für Elise_when Mrs. Reynolds came to tell her that William had arrived.

She forced herself to stand still and look welcoming as her brother came into the parlor with a petite young woman on his arm. Georgiana at once envied her beautiful dark curls, but felt encouraged by Elizabeth's kind, expressive eyes. They exchanged a timid smile before William walked forward to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. His smile was so open and bright that Georgiana could hardly believe it was the same Will Darcy who'd recently spent a week holed up in his study and glowering at anyone who dared to pass his door. She couldn't remember _ever_ seeing Will smile like that, a thought that made her both sad and happy at the same time.

"Georgie, this is Elizabeth Bennet." Will took Elizabeth's hand and led her forward slightly so the two young women stood facing each other. Georgiana offered her hand, but Elizabeth instead stepped forward and embraced her future sister-in-law.

"I am so pleased to finally meet you." she said, releasing her. Georgiana blushed but was happy.

"I'm very glad to meet you Elizabeth." she snuck a glance up at her brother, who had never looked so happy. _He isn't frightening at all when he looks like that, _she thought, _he'll ruin his reputation for sure!_

"I've heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other."

Elizabeth laughed with her whole being, Georgiana loved the way the sound seemed to fill the room. She found that there had been far too little laughter at Pemberley of late.

"I can only hope that _some _of what you might've heard was true."

"My sister will tell you that I never exaggerate." Darcy interrupted.

"In that case I am even more skeptical. It's a rule that folks who claim to never exaggerate are usually the worst offenders."

"I'll have you know I told her that you were very smart and very beautiful."

"Then again, I'm sure that there _are_ exceptions to every rule."

Everyone joined in Elizabeth's laughter, and it was then that Georgiana noticed the older couple that had come in behind Will and Elizabeth. Darcy introduced them as Edward and Madeline Gardiner, Elizabeth's aunt and uncle from Beaufort. In time, Georgiana began to come out of her shell thanks to Elizabeth's gentle encouragement and Mrs. Gardiner's kindness. She was even brave enough to bring up topics of conversation on her own, and asked Elizabeth if they might get to hear her sing.

"I will sing only if you promise to play for me, Georgiana."

"Oh not me! What if I ruin it?" Georgiana pleaded.

"Then we both go down together! If we are going to embarrass ourselves, I think we ought to do a good job of it. And you know what they say, 'strength in numbers' and all that."

"Oh I couldn't...you should get William to play for you. He plays just as well as I do." All eyes turned to Darcy, who was looked embarrassed.

"Well, well, well." Elizabeth said in a provocative tone, "You've been keeping secrets, Mr. Darcy."

"Lizzie..." Mr. Gardiner warned.

"Oh you can't think I'm letting him off the hook _that _easy! When will you play for us, Mr. Darcy?"

"When you least expect it, my dear." was his only reply.

_

* * *

Of all the rotten luck._ Mary only just noticed that there was not one, not two, but three buttons missing off of her favorite sweater. She couldn't ask her mother for replacements, she'd been begging Mary for years to get rid of 'the ugly old thing'. As soon as she found out about the missing buttons, she'd have Mary in something fashionable and completely useless, much more like what Kitty or Lydia would wear.

_Lydia, of course! _She remembered that Lydia kept a box of spare ribbons and loose buttons under her bed. Mary tiptoed past her mother's room and slipped into the room shared by her two younger sisters, who were still at school. She found the box easily enough, and on opening it checked under the bed again to make sure there weren't _two_ boxes. The one she'd opened only had a few scraps of ribbon, and a stack of notes. Mary was about to close the lid when she saw the address on the note on top, clearly written by a man.

_To: L_

_From : R_

Mary didn't intend to pry, but something made a warning bell sound in her head. Looking around to make sure she was unobserved, she opened the first note and began to read. The warning bell, it seemed, was not unwarranted.


	19. Such Sweet Sorrow

Elizabeth woke up in a strange bed to the sound of thunder booming across the valley. After a moment she realized she was at Pemberley, and that it was morning though the sky was dark with clouds. She got up from the bed walked over to the window where she could see the low, ominous thunderheads creeping over the sky. She thought the view was no less spectacular for it. In fact, the pines were an even deeper green against the gray clouds, and the trees that had already shed their leaves seemed to stretch their bare limbs heavenward. _I could get very used to living here, _she thought.

She sat down at the window seat, tucking her knees up against her and wrapping her arms around them. Looking out at the rolling hills and peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains, she considered how very lucky she was. She'd been so close to never knowing Darcy, to never loving him. She had once teased him of being 'A Man Without Fault'. Laughing to herself, Elizabeth thought it sounded like an excellent movie title, something starring Gregory Peck.

She knew only too well how untrue that statement had been. He was still aloof among company and strangers alike, though Elizabeth thought she might be able to soften that habit with her own outgoing nature. The way he'd acted after discovering her past with Richard had been misguided at best, though a small part of her understood the reason behind it. She tried to imagine how _she_ would feel if the roles had been reversed, and had to admit the thought made her a little dizzy.

Of course while she admired and respected Richard, she was sure she didn't love him. There had been a time, those idyllic days in Charleston, when she felt that she _could_ love him. The memory of that feeling was a sliver of ice lodged in her chest, she wondered if she could ever get it to melt. Elizabeth, however, was never one to dwell in the past. She embraced the promise of her new life with Darcy with her whole being.

And when she thought of how she'd dismissed him, before she'd even met him!

Elizabeth was unfortunately no stranger to prejudice; while Meryton was a more peaceful and accommodating town, it was by no means faultless in this regard. _And it seems I am not immune either, _Elizabeth thought. She'd always reviled prejudice in others, yet she had been just as guilty of it in Darcy's case. She'd taken one look at him and had used that glance to form her initial opinion. She was the worst sort of hypocrite.

_And now…_she looked around the room she'd spent the night in. The walls were soft blue, a nice contrast to the deep brown wood floor. The room was furnished simply, but more for comfort than for show; which was not what she'd been expecting. Elizabeth had only been there for one day and she already loved Pemberley. Every room was different; every corner boasted some lovely detail. It was grand and fine, but it was also open and inviting, the way a real home should be. It was obvious that the Darcys had put more than money into the house. Everywhere she looked seemed to shine with a love and pride that went back generations. Elizabeth only hoped that she was able to live up to it.

Another crack of thunder sounded outside the window, and the rain began to come down in earnest. She was supposed to tour the grounds that day, but it looked as though the weather had had other ideas. A soft knock at her bedroom door distracted her from her disappointment. She was about to get up when the door opened a crack and Georgiana peeked her head in. She looked surprised to see that Elizabeth over by the window.

"Elizabeth, can I come in?" Elizabeth smiled and rose from her seat, opening the door fully for Georgiana.

"Of course, but only if you promise to start calling me Lizzie" she said, putting her arm around the younger girl's shoulders sitting her down on the edge of her bed.

"And will you call me Georgie?" Elizabeth couldn't help but notice the lonely sound in her voice. Without thinking about it, her hand reached up and smoothed Georgiana's hair. It was a comforting gesture, one she and Jane used often.

"Of course. We'll be sisters soon enough, no need to stand on ceremony. Did the thunder wake you up?"

"No, I've been up for a while now."

Georgiana seemed to be working up the courage to say something, Elizabeth waited patiently, continuing to stroke the girl's heavy brown hair. She noted that it was the same color as Darcy's; only hers was board-straight whereas his was curly. Curious, Elizabeth studied her companion to try to spot the differences between her and her brother. They had the same full mouth, but Georgiana's nose was not as long, and her eyes were blue rather than hazel. She was just wondering which of their parents each Darcy resembled most when Georgiana at last spoke.

"Lizzy …I wanted to tell you how happy I am that you're going to be my sister. You didn't really know Will before, so you can't truly see the change in him. He was never what you'd call _easygoing, _but he used to be easy, even fun to be around. Since our father got sick and Will had to take over…well, I thought I'd never see him like he used to be." Georgiana took Elizabeth's hand and gave it a shy squeeze.

"But when I see him with you, it's like I've got my brother back. He's not 'Mister Darcy' when he's with you, he's just Will. And I guess...I wanted to say Thank You."

Elizabeth hardly knew how to respond. What she'd just heard went beyond compliment; it was more like a gift. She was deeply honored. She realized for the first time how little family the Darcy's actually had. Both their parents were gone; they'd never been close with Richard Fitzwilliam's father, who was dead these three years, or their mother's sister Catherine deBourgh. They had Richard and their cousin Anne deBourgh, but from what little Darcy had told Elizabeth, she understood that Anne was rarely allowed out of Catherine's sight, so they did not see her often. They'd been fond of Anne's father, Lewis, but he'd died in a horrible train accident thirteen years ago.

When she asked Darcy about Richard's mother, his face became downright tragic. He explained that Richard's mother had been injured when they were children, a horseback riding accident. She was still alive, but had been severely brain damaged and had been in a nursing home in Washington, D.C. for many years. It had been her accident that had caused the rift between Richard and his father, but Darcy could not, or would not talk of it further.

Elizabeth was grateful for her own loud, imperfect, loving family. Her childhood had been a happy one, she'd never lost a loved one the way Darcy, Georgiana, Richard and Anne had. Thinking on this, she was now more determined than ever to give the Darcys a happy home. She could only express this by drawing her future sister into an embrace. She was unsurprised to hear Georgiana sniffle into her shoulder, and Elizabeth gently rocked the girl, humming low to soothe her.

When the moment had passed, Elizabeth asked Georgiana to tell her all about their parents. Instead of crying, Georgiana smiled and began regaling Elizabeth with loving, often amusing stories about her childhood. She didn't remember her mother as well as her father, but was perfectly happy to share all of the stories she'd gotten secondhand from her brother and Richard. Several hours later, they went down to breakfast with lighter hearts and a new, unshakable bond.

* * *

Darcy peeked into the main living room and was immediately arrested by the most charming sight he'd ever seen.

Having been forced to spend the day indoors, Elizabeth and Georgiana had found it necessary to seek other ways of amusing themselves. One of them had found his Benny Goodman record (he kept it stashed between 'Strauss' and 'Stravinsky') and it looked as though Elizabeth was now teaching his sister how to Jitterbug. Elizabeth was leading. Darcy stifled a nervous laugh at watching her encourage Georgiana to jump and 'swing'.

"I'll catch you, I'm stronger than I look!"

"I'll fall on my face, or worse!"

"How's that possible? What's worse than falling on your face?"

Hearing Georgiana openly laughing, he felt a warm sensation spreading through him and said a prayer of thanks that he had the good fortune to have such an extraordinary woman in his life. He quietly entered the room to better watch the spectacle before him. Elizabeth saw him almost at once, and asked if he'd care to join them.

"You've been discovered, Mr. Darcy" Elizabeth teased, breathless as she danced, "I know you're a closet Jazz enthusiast! Put your skills to the test and dance with us!"

"I'll thank you not to Lindy Hop all over that rug, it's brand new." He tried to look disapproving, with little success. The grin that had been threatening finally won out. He didn't know why he even bothered.

"Come _on_, Will!" Georgiana laughed, "No one can listen to this song and _not_ want to dance!" She let Elizabeth take the lead as the famous opening notes of 'Sing, Sing, Sing' began to play.

He was about to do exactly that when he heard a knock on the door, a moment before his Manager Mr. Hale came in. He supposed it was for the best, he didn't know how well behaved he could be dancing with Elizabeth, but thought it might be better not to put it to the test in front of his baby sister. Darcy cracked a smile at Hale's double take at seeing the girls dancing. He approached his employer while watching them uncertainly. He was holding a yellow slip of paper.

"Mr. Darcy, sir. I just received this telegram and thought you'd want to be made aware of it immediately." Curious, Darcy took the paper from Hale and looked at it for only a moment. Elizabeth saw the laughter leave his face almost at once; his voice was serious as he spoke to his manager.

"Thank you, Mr. Hale. Please make sure I have a car ready to go in the next half-hour, and tell Mrs. Reynolds to prepare another room."

Georgiana and Elizabeth exchanged a wary glance as he approached them; their dancing lesson was quite forgotten.

"You're leaving, William?" Georgiana asked.

"I'm afraid I have to, but just for the day, Georgie. Don't frown at me like that; I'll be bringing someone back with me. Our cousin Anne." Georgiana's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Though how much luck I'll have is yet to be seen, it seems as though I'm not in Aunt Catherine's good graces at the moment." Darcy's eyes flew to Elizabeth very briefly, but that one glance seemed to tell her everything she needed to know.

"I assume your aunt has heard our happy news." She straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore the defiant flush that overspread her face. They were both surprised by a derisive snort from Georgiana.

"Snapped her cap, has she? Don't worry, Lizzy, our aunt is quite the piece of work. Always after William to marry Anne, never mind that _they_ never gave two cents for the idea. She's already richer than King Solomon but won't be happy until she has our money too."

With that tirade over, Georgiana threw herself onto one of the large leather couches and crossed her arms petulantly. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Darcy felt the corner of his mouth lift into a lopsided grin. It seemed Elizabeth was already rubbing off on his sister. He'd never seen her act so much like a teenage girl.

Elizabeth could not be so amused. She knew that whatever was going on was serious enough to call Darcy out of the house an on to the roads in bad weather. She also had the sinking feeling that Mr. Collins was somehow involved. After their reunion, she'd told Darcy everything that had happened on the day of Collins' disastrous proposal. She'd been wary of the grim set of his face until she'd related her violent reaction, at which point his face had broken out into a grin and he'd all but clapped her on the back. She thought he seemed almost _proud_.

He had in fact been very proud of her. He was almost as proud of her standing up for herself as he was angry with the Minister for giving her a reason to. He'd in turn told the entire tale to Richard, only to see that his reaction was not so very different from Darcy's. _I wonder if I will have to keep an eye on him, _Darcy thought, though he couldn't be sure if he was thinking of Collins or Richard.

At that moment he was thinking about how useful Richard would be in helping him deal with their aunt, but Richard was far away in Saint Paul. An idea seemed to occur to him.

"Elizabeth, do you know where your uncle is right now?"

* * *

Thomas Bennet hated confrontations. He was a quiet, peaceful man whose greatest pleasures in life were a comfortable chair, a good book, and the occasional joke. He now found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to confront one of his own children. The child in question sat in front of him, squirming in her chair. On the desk between them was an open cigar box, filled with letters.

"You know what this means, don't you Lydia?" Mr. Bennet asked in his most serious tone. Lydia only looked confused but said nothing.

"I'm afraid the time has finally come." He continued, "You, my dear, are going to boarding school starting next week. Until then, you are absolutely forbidden to leave this house without my company." He tried to remain unmovable and stern as Lydia's lip began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. In truth, he was counting the minutes until he could pour himself a good, strong drink.

"Oh Papa, is that really necessary?" Jane pleaded. He'd barred his wife from this summit, but thought it might go easier if one of Lydia's more rational sisters were present.

"You know as well as I do, Jane. It's not only necessary, it's absolutely essential." He turned his attention back to his youngest daughter.

"Lydia, you ought to dry your eyes. You were warned to stay away from soldiers, and you were told that the punishment would be severe. You have no one to blame for your woes but yourself. Now," he came around his desk to sit in front of her, "it's in your favor that you're as green as a gourd and will believe any nonsense that's said with a smile. You will finish this school year at Boarding school, and if I'm convinced over your summer break that you've reformed, you can come back to Meryton."

Contrary to his intention, this only made Lydia cry harder. He gave Jane a look that was instantly understood, and Lydia was whisked out of the room by her sister. Keeping his earlier promise to himself, Mr. Bennet poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat frowning at the stack of notes in front of him. _Robert Lovelace indeed! _he thought.

He knew an alias when he heard one, and the young man in question undoubtedly knew his literature. Seducer, kidnapper, and worse, _Clarissa_'s villain sounded very much like another worthless young man he'd recently been warned of. Mr. Bennet had no doubt that Robert Lovelace and George Wickham were one and the same.

* * *

The snow began to come down in earnest on Thursday night, turning Saint Paul into a winter wonderland overnight. Richard got up earlier than usual to shovel the walkway to the carport, the sidewalk, the driveway, and anywhere else he thought Claire might possibly set foot. He thought he would look into a winter house for them. After all, he had a small fortune of his own. Claire could keep working if she wanted to, but after today wouldn't necessarily _need_ to.

She came outside bundled in her warmest winter coat, her new hat (a wedding gift from Richard) and gloves. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her gray-green eyes shone with happiness. Richard thought she had never looked more beautiful. He resisted the urge to carry her to the car, knowing his new found over-protectiveness would soon annoy her. They sat in companionable silence on the way to City Hall, occasionally pointing out a street that had been made particularly pretty by the snow.

The ceremony was simple and private, just as they'd previously planned. They had a quick lunch at Yarusso Brothers before getting back on the road, heading east. The newlyweds would be spending their honeymoon traveling. First, Richard had decided to do something he hadn't done in years, and visit his mother. If there was any part of her that could see out of those vacant, staring eyes, he knew that she would want to know Claire. The night before he'd broached the subject, asking if it would be too upsetting to her, and she'd replied by kissing him warmly.

"I would love to meet her." She'd said after. She knew what it cost him to see his mother in her condition, and was deeply touched that he would put himself through that for the occasion.

"I'm also looking forward to meeting your cousins in North Carolina. I've never been there, I hear it's a pretty place."

"It is, especially where we're going." Richard said as he toyed with a stray lock of her hair.

"What's the name of his estate, again? Did you tell him we were coming?"

"Pemberley. We really don't need to tell him, I keep permanent rooms there." He pulled her closer. "Let's just surprise them, shall we?"

_

* * *

Oh, thank heavens._ Anne let out a relieved breath on seeing Darcy getting out of his car, accompanied by a well-dressed man several years older. As she stood at the window, her cousin looked up and caught her eye immediately. He gave her an austere nod before striding towards the front door. The other man followed behind him.

"Mama!" Anne cried. Mrs. Jenkinson started and looked up from her sewing.

"He's here! Where's my bag?" She dropped on all fours and searched under the bed for the 'getaway bag' she and Mrs. Jenkinson had carefully packed over the past few days.

"It's in your daddy's room, I hid it in his bureau. I know it's the one room she don't go in to." Mrs. Jenkinson set aside her mending and rose from her seat as if it were any other day. "I'll go get it."

"No" Anne stopped her, "I'll go, it might be a long time before I'm in this house again." She stopped and wiped at her eyes.

"I'll gather up your vanity while you do that." Anne nodded and hastened out of the room.

Neither of them remarked on the shouting that was already going on downstairs.

Anne crept past the staircase and slipped into her father's room unobserved. Except from the muffled sounds of the altercation going on downstairs, it was silent in Lewis deBourgh's bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, Anne revolved slowly, trying to absorb every detail. The chipped plaster near the door, the old leather chair in the corner, the slight dip in the floor by the dresser, all of these things Anne wished she could take with her.

Another shout from the main floor reminded her that she didn't have time for such reflections, and she hurried over to the bureau and yanked it open. A small plume of dust swirled around her as she grabbed the bag and shut the door. She was about to hurry back to her own room when a glint of light in the corner caught her eye. She went to investigate, and found the framed photo her father had kept on his bedside table. It was a picture of the three of them. Her mother was as stout as ever, but looked a good deal softer. Her hair had not yet turned iron gray and there were hardly any of the deep lines that cut her face now.

Her father looked exactly as Anne remembered him, with his short beard, round eyeglasses, and mild expression.

"Anne!" Mrs. Jenkinson hissed from the doorway, pulling Anne from her recollections. She quickly opened her bag and stashed the photo in it, frame and all. She all but ran from the room, shutting the door behind her without a second look. She stopped at the top of the stairs to embrace the woman who had raised her, unable to stop the tears that flowed freely down her face.

"Oh Mama, come with me!" she pleaded. Mrs. Jenkinson responded by clasping Anne more tightly for a moment before kissing her teary cheek.

"You've got to grow up now, girl." She said with tears in her own voice.

"I took you as far as I can, the rest is up to you. You are going to be fine."

She held Anne's face between her palms, locking eyes with her. She tried let her eyes show how much she loved her, how much she would miss her. With one last embrace; they headed down the stairs together.

Edward Gardiner did not weigh in on the dispute that had started almost the moment they had walked in the front door. He was there to witness and lend a hand if needed, but even that almost proved to be too difficult when Darcy's aunt started vilifying his niece. He was astounded at some of the insults the woman flung at Elizabeth, who was not even there to defend herself, or as far as he knew had never even met this formidable aunt. They'd barely said their hellos (Catherine seemed to mistake Mr. Gardiner for Darcy's driver) when she set in.

"I've heard the most disturbing rumor about you, my boy." Mr. Gardiner had almost laughed out loud that anyone would still call Darcy 'my boy'. From the look on his face, Darcy didn't care for it too much either.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Aunt" Darcy said with a slight sneer. "Dare I ask what you heard?"

"Don't play games with _me, _Fitzwilliam Darcy!" Catherine stood up, holding her clenched fists stiffly at her sides.

"I've been told about your scandal of an engagement! No doubt some indiscretion makes you think it's necessary!" She did not heed the forbidding look of either man.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we can set things right_. _Need I remind you that you are from one of the oldest families in the country, your mother had much better things in mind for you than some half-literate floozy of a farmer's daughter."

"CATHERINE!"

It was the first time in his life Darcy had ever addressed her by anything other than "Aunt" to her face, or "The Old Dragon" behind her back. There was no mistaking his tone; he was deeply angry, and suddenly exhausted. Between Caroline, Wickham, Richard, and now his own Aunt, Darcy was beginning to feel like it was he and Elizabeth against the world. _I wonder if you'd consider eloping with me, my dear Lizzy. _He would make sure to remember to ask her when they returned to Pemberley. He took a deep breath to calm himself, hoping Anne would be ready soon.

_The sooner this unpleasant business is over, the better. _He'd of course worried for Anne over the past few years, after she came of age. He wondered why she never went to her house in Savannah, if only to get away from her mother for a while. On their visits, he and Richard would sometimes try to talk to her, but she always seemed to be daydreaming and would only nod absently at their questions.

Her message had been enough to convince him that she had finally woken up. It had said simply:

"_Mother learned of your engagement to Mr. Collins' cousin. Thought it fair to warn you she is making plans for all of us. If I can please come to Pemberley for extended visit please collect me on Friday or Saturday. Please. God Bless_."

Darcy thought it might have been the second 'please' that convinced him that the situation was already serious. He was also uneasy that his aunt was 'making plans' for all of them. Which brought him back to the present. Catherine was still railing away, shouting about him being 'taken in'. Mr. Gardiner was stepping forward, and would have spoken if they had not been interrupted by the sudden appearance of Anne and her maid.

Anne's face was tear-streaked but defiant. Darcy thought she looked a little like her mother at that moment. Catherine had noticed her daughter's entrance, and the bags she carried.

"What do you think you're doing, Anne?" Catherine said coldly.

"I'm leaving, Mother. I'm going to stay at Pemberley for a spell." There was no tremor in Anne's voice, and she prayed her newfound courage would last until they were safely in the car. The man who'd arrived with Darcy stepped forward, took her bags and carried out the front door.

"You aren't going anywhere, except back up to your room this instant!"

"This has gone on long enough_!" _ Darcy shouted, startling both women, "Anne is twenty-four years old! She can come and go if she chooses!"

"NOT HERE she can't!" Catherine's face was a violent red, neither Darcy nor Anne had ever seen here so angry. She turned to her daughter.

"If you leave this house, Anne, you will never be welcome here again! You will be disowned and I will forget that I ever had a daughter!"

"You already have." Anne said quietly. "I know you only ever wanted me for what I could gain for you. I'm not your daughter; I'm your asset. If you want to know the truth, I haven't thought of you as my mother since I was a child." She took Mrs. Jenkinson's hand in her own.

"This woman is my mother, my _real_ mother. So disown me if you want to, I think I'd be happier living in a boxcar than I would one more day in this house." Darcy winced and Catherine's face went from red to white. Her own daughter preferred her maid, her _colored_ maid to her. Catherine was beyond rage.

"I knew it. I knew you'd gone crazy, Anne." A sly smile stole across her face. "I should have locked you up years ago."

"You did." Anne said simply. Catherine, not to be outdone, turned to her daughter's maid.

"And _you_, you are fired! You will leave here this minute, or I'll call the sheriff and have you arrested for trespassing. And I'll tell him you've been stealing from me for y ears."

Darcy put a hand on Mrs. Jenkinson's arm. "Would you join Mr. Gardiner at my car, Ma'am? Tell him Anne and I will be out in a moment." She gave him a small smile and squeezed Anne's hand briefly before walking out of the room with her head held high.

Anne walked over and stood beside Darcy. The two of them side-by-side was an image that Catherine had tried to orchestrate for years, and now to have it twisted in such a way sent her into a blind fury.

"Your mother," she said to Darcy, "must be turning in her grave at what you've let yourself become. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I think my mother would be very happy for me," Darcy snapped, "and I hope that someday you can do the same. Until then I think it's best you hire a manager to oversee your properties, I doubt I'll be back. Or you can hope that Richard might still help you, if you can handle his being engaged to a schoolteacher."

Catherine looked as though she'd been slapped. She turned to Anne.

"I'm just glad your father isn't alive to see this- this _debacle._"

"On _that_, we definitely agree. Goodbye, Mother." Anne turned and left the house without another word. Darcy looked at his aunt another moment before doing the same, leaving Catherine standing in shock over what had just happened.

Rosings had never been so quiet.


	20. What Rough Beast

Caroline sat back and admired her handiwork. For three days she'd toiled over her project, trying to make the letter sound desperate and impertinent at the same time. _Just like that piece of work Eliza Bennet._ She even thought that at first glance it could be mistaken for the little tramp's handwriting. Caroline had acquired a shopping list from Elizabeth's room, and had been lucky enough to also find a letter she'd written to her sister in Jane's purse the last time the she'd had come to visit Charles.

Now all that remained was to post it. She knew that Richard Fitzwilliam didn't live at Pemberley year-round, but no doubt Darcy would be forwarding his mail. What ultimately would become of it she couldn't know, in the worst case scenario Richard would confront Elizabeth, in the best case he would share the letter with Darcy and _he_ would confront Elizabeth. Gathering her things to go to the post office, Caroline smiled at the idea of Eliza Bennet being so humiliated.

* * *

Elizabeth and Georgiana were talking about their favorite book, _The Mysteries of Udolpho_, over breakfast when Mrs. Gardiner joined them at the table. They'd discovered their mutual love of Ann Radcliffe the previous night over dinner, and had scarcely talked of anything else since. In fact, Georgiana had just been telling Elizabeth about naming her first horse Valancourt.

In truth Elizabeth only half listening, she'd been nervous when her uncle and Darcy had not returned before she went to bed. Though the maid had told her that morning that Mr. Gardiner, Darcy and Anne deBourgh had arrived very late, Elizabeth knew she wouldn't feel at ease until she saw him with her own eyes. She was also somewhat nervous that his cousin's flight from Rosings was necessary in part because of her.

"What time did Uncle Ed get in last night?" Elizabeth asked as soon as Georgiana paused to take a bite of her breakfast.

"About eleven o'clock" Darcy said from the door.

Elizabeth's heart leapt up in her chest at the sound of his voice. She immediately noticed the deep circles under his bloodshot eyes and thought that she had never seen him so exhausted. She wanted to march him back to bed and stand over him to make sure he went right to sleep. The thought of her marching him to bed caused her to blush up to the roots of her hair, and she pretended to be very interested in her scrambled eggs rather than look at him again.

Darcy in fact had not slept at all that night. He'd let Mr. Gardiner drive part of the way back so that he could try to speak with Anne, but his cousin had fallen asleep (or pretended to) and had not woken up until they were well past the North Carolina border. She'd stayed silent the rest of the way, starting out the window at the passing countryside. Once they'd arrived he spent the rest of that night pacing in his room, trying to rid his mind of the confrontation with his aunt, with no luck. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Catherine, her face red and pinched in anger. His imagination answered his distress, and his memories were embellished to where Catherine stood with one foot on Anne's back, the other on Elizabeth's. Frustrated and angry, he roamed the halls of Pemberley. At one point he stood outside Elizabeth's door and tried to calm himself by picturing her sleeping inside. It didn't soothe him as he'd thought it would, it only reminded him of that awful day that he'd stood outside her bedroom door at Longbourn, quietly begging for admittance.

Part of him wanted to knock but was afraid of what would happen if she were to answer. Another, darker part of him wanted to go in uninvited and unannounced and crawl into her bed. He knew that she wouldn't refuse him, no matter how much she might regret it later, which is exactly why he forced himself to go back to his own room.

When he came into the dining room, his eyes found her immediately. He seemed to heal and brighten at the very sight of her, and the sound of her soft voice. _God, I love her!_ His fatigue was gone, Catherine was forgotten, all he could think of now was the promise he'd made to himself the day before, to ask her a certain question when he saw her next.

Georgiana was already rising from the table and coming over to him, followed by Mrs. Gardiner.

"Will, did Anne really come back with you?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, Georgie. I had Mrs. Reynolds put her in the yellow room. Maybe you should go see if she needs anything, I was just going to ask Elizabeth if she could spare a moment for me, that is if she's done with her breakfast."

Elizabeth's stomach sank at these words. _Here it comes,_ she thought. She did not undervalue herself so much as to believe that Darcy was too good for her; she instead liked to think of them as partners, no matter how unequal their financial and social standing might be. She hoped that he felt the same, but in the face of direct opposition from family members…could he now think that a marriage to her was more trouble than what it was worth?

She stopped picking at her breakfast and stood up. She was trying to compensate for her unease by being cool and collected. Darcy was confused by her sudden change in demeanor, but said nothing. He led her out of the breakfast room and down the hall to his study. As soon as he closed the door he took her hand and led her over to the sofa where he'd sat with Georgiana several weeks ago, the same place where he'd asked his sister to help him get back in Elizabeth's good graces. Now he had her there, her small hand captured in his, her engagement ring cold against his fingers.

He sat beside her on the sofa for only a moment before scooping her up with a "Forgive Me" and depositing her in his lap. He heard her gasp and saw her eyes widen in surprise when he did what he'd wanted to do the night before and ran his fingers through her hair. He kissed her, and after a moment she kissed him back with a cautious enthusiasm. His hands left her hair and traveled to her waist, pulling her closer to him. Eloping was sounding better and better every minute. Elizabeth pulled back and looked at him, curious. He said nothing but laughed at the lift of her eyebrow and the small sardonic smile she wore.

"What's gotten in to you today Mister D?" He smiled at her little nickname for him.

"It was a very long day yesterday, that's all." He said absently, absorbed in toying with one of her perpetually stray curls.

"Was it very bad, your aunt?" she asked in a small voice, burying her face in his shoulder.

He sighed, understanding. He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face so that he could meet her eyes with his. He'd decided on truth.

"Yes, it was very bad, but not for the reason you think, Lizzie. I'm a little surprised that you would think that anything would ever make me change my mind about us. I'm ashamed of my aunt's behavior, both for my cousin and for what it's led you to consider."

He scowled as he saw her eyes flood with relief. He knew he hadn't been the most reliable person, but wondered if she honestly thought he was so fickle that he'd break their engagement simply because of an aunt who he wasn't even close to. He kissed her again, soft and reassuring on her mouth, cheeks and eyelids, and forehead. He stopped to look at her again, the question still on the tip of his tongue. _Oh just go for it, you coward._ He told himself.

"Elizabeth" he began cautiously, "Did you have a date in mind for the wedding?"

She seemed surprised by this question but said "Jane and I talked about a double wedding, sometime in the spring."

"The spring!" He scoffed, "You'd do that to me, wouldn't you! I should have known you'd be so mean!"

"You had some other date in mind?"

"Yes, tomorrow!" he blurted out. She almost smiled until she realized he wasn't joking.

"You're serious!"

"I never joke about matrimony. Just ask all my other wives. What do you say, Lizzie?" He swallowed automatically, his mouth had suddenly gone very dry. He hoped she wouldn't notice how nervous he really was.

"Are you so eager to give up your bachelor life?" she asked with her low laugh.

"Very eager" he said in her ear. To demonstrate his point he flipped her on her back, positioning himself above her and kissed her again. He could feel her heart hammering through the thin fabric of her blouse as her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer than ever before.

* * *

Mr. Gardiner had had a similar reunion with his wife the night before, and related to her everything he'd witnessed at Rosings. He even told her about a brief conversation he'd had with Mr. Collins, who he'd encountered while he carried Anne deBourgh's bags out of the house.

Collins had seen Darcy's car ride by from his house, and had wasted no time in coming to Rosings to ingratiate himself to Catherine's nephew. Mr. Gardiner of course remembered the man from Longbourn, as they'd arrived on the same day he departed back to Camden, their visits briefly overlapping. Both of the Gardiner's had noticed the man's inappropriate staring at the girls, and the way his eyes would sometimes narrow when he looked at Elizabeth. Mrs. Gardiner asked her if she'd done something to offend Collins, and Elizabeth had related the whole story to her aunt, who had in turn shared it with her husband.

"Mr. Gardiner!" the minister obviously caught off guard to see that Elizabeth's keen-eyed uncle had accompanied Darcy to Rosings.

"Mr. Collins, I'm not sure this is such a good time to come calling." Mr. Gardiner, usually a friendly and likable man, crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look forbidding.

"Has something happened?" Collins stood on his tiptoes to try to see over Mr. Gardiner's shoulder.

"Well," Mr. Gardiner began, "It seems that someone has been filling that woman's head with ideas that my niece is some two-bit floozy and a golddigger to boot, which anyone who knows Lizzie would have to agree is unfair."

Mr. Collins paled and twisted his hat in his hands. Mr. Gardiner pretended not to notice.

"Point of fact, if I suspect someone has been spreading rumors or painting a less-than-accurate picture, I'll be very upset, not to mention how angry Mr. Darcy will be. And he seems like the kind of man that could be…_unreasonable_ when he's angry, don't you think, Mr. Collins? "

Collins swallowed convulsively, backing away from Mr. Gardiner. "I see that this isn't a g-good time" he stuttered, "I'll be about my business." With that he practically ran the half-mile back to his own house.

Mrs. Gardiner was proud of her husband; she had no doubt that Catherine's tirade was fueled by Mr. Collins' embarrassment at being spurned and physically beaten by Elizabeth.

"And how is the girl, Ed?" Mrs. Gardiner asked about Anne.

"Well, she cried a bit when we took that maid of hers home. It looks like she'll be staying with her oldest son until Anne gets a place of her own. After that she mostly slept in the backseat, wouldn't wake up for the world." He smiled at his wife, whose heart was already aching for the poor lonely Anne deBourgh. In their eleven years of marriage, he'd often teased her about 'taking in strays'. Madeline never could stand to see people cast-off or friendless, her softheartedness was one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with her.

"Maybe you could talk to her in the morning, Maddie. I'm sure she'll need a woman with a good head on her shoulders."

"And you thought of me?" she said jokingly as her husband turned out the light, pulling her close in the dark.

* * *

The Regency Convalescence and Rest Home was nothing like what Claire had expected. She'd been looking for some drab block of an institution, and was surprised when they'd pulled up to a towering Victorian structure, with a formal garden, manicured lawns and a flagstone-paved walkway flanked by cherry blossom trees. It was the first time that she'd ever considered how much money Richard actually had, to be able to keep his mother comfortable in such a place.

Inside it was more like a hospital, but not so much that it felt oppressive or frightening. It did, however, smell strongly of disinfectant. The smell made Claire's stomach clench and she prayed that she would not succumb to morning sickness _now _of all times.

"Richard and Claire Fitzwilliam to see Mrs. Fitzwilliam." Richard said to the desk clerk. Claire started at hearing her new name, she supposed it would take some getting used to.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam!" said the clerk, an older man with an impressive head of silver hair, "So good to see you again, and married now!" The man turned to Claire and gave her a polite nod, "Congratulations, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. If you need anything at all please let me know, my name is Mr. Halleday."

"Thank you, Mr. Halleday," Richard spoke for both of them, "If you don't mind we'd like to wait for my mother in the Garden."

"Of course, sir, of course! Would you like to have someone bring you some refreshments while you're out there?" Claire tried to hide her amusement at the man's deference to Richard. From Halleday's behavior, she thought her husband must spend a _very_ great deal on the Regency Home.

"No thank you, Halleday, this visit will be a quick one." The strain in his voice distracted Claire from the humorous concierge, and she put her hand in Richard's, smiling to reassure him.

They were led out to the garden, which was still a little green despite it being the middle of November. Claire marveled at the warmer temperatures and muggy air, she was beginning to like the east coast already. They'd barely seated themselves on one of the stone benches when an orderly in a white, starched uniform approached them, pushing a woman in a wheelchair. Claire heard Richard's sharp intake of breath and put her arm around his waist.

Claire took a moment to look at her mother-in-law. She couldn't tell what color the woman's hair had been, it was completely white now, neatly brushed and worn in a long braid. She noticed the large, bubbled scar on the woman's temple where hair did not grow. The skin there was pink and shiny. Richard's eyes were the same exact color of his mother's, but where his were bright with intelligence and good humor, hers were completely fixed and vacant. Claire was sure that the woman had once been good-looking, even beautiful, but now her features hung slack and tired. Her hands and nails were impeccably neat, and her clothes were clean and pressed. She was obviously well cared for here.

"Mama" Richard's hand shook slightly as he took his mother's limp hand in his own. He kissed her dry cheek, then reached out with his free hand and took Claire's.

"Mama, I got married two days ago. This is my wife, Claire." He said in a gentle voice. Claire thought her heart would never stop breaking for him. She got up and kissed the woman's other cheek, looking into her unresponsive face said "Dear Mother."

Richard stood abruptly, turning away from both of them. Claire let him be. When he turned back, he saw her wiping his mother's chin with her own handkerchief. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he walked back to his wife, kissing the top of her head. "Sweet Claire" he sighed. He resumed his seat and began telling his mother everything that had happened since his last visit, including the baby, and Darcy's engagement. When the breeze turned chilly the orderly came to take Mrs. Fitzwilliam back inside. They said their goodbyes with unreturned words and kisses. After speaking briefly with his mother's Doctor, Richard led his wife back the car. If they didn't stop for lunch, they could be at Pemberley by the afternoon.

* * *

Anne opened a window in the main living room and breathed deep the cool autumn air. She'd forgotten how beautiful Pemberley was, how sweet and clean the mountain air smelled. She wished she could have been there a month ago, when all the leaves had turned. She remembered childhood visits where the mountains surrounding Pemberley were a riot of color, to her young eyes it was almost magical. In fact, it was probably the setting for many of her daydreams. Anne knew that now such retreats were unnecessary, but found no pleasure or relief in the fact. She was still wrung out from the previous day, and missed Mrs. Jenkinson keenly.

She turned at the sound of the door opening to see Darcy walk in. He looked as tired as she did, but wore a small, distracted smile and seemed lighter than he had the day before. She also noticed that his hair was decidedly rumpled, which struck her as funny.

"How are you, Anne?" he asked.

"Oh don't' worry about _me,_ Will. I'll be fine, I promise." She wondered if this sounded as contrived to him as it did to her own ears.

"When will I get to meet Elizabeth?" She attempted to change the subject. Darcy's eyes took on a faraway look as he smiled; Anne was shocked to see her intractable cousin actually blush. She was beginning to thing she should be intimidated by the famous Elizabeth Bennet.

"Elizabeth is with her Aunt and Uncle, you'll meet her soon." His face sobered and he ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

"Anne, you are welcome to stay here as long as you want, permanently if you like. You know we have the room and we'd love to have you here indefinitely. But I have to ask what you plan to do with the property in Savannah. Do you want to accompany me and Richard on our annual inspection, if you plan on keeping the place?" Anne seemed confused and tried to clarify.

"The sugarcane farm? Why are you asking me?"

"Do you mean to tell me you don't…"

He stopped short, realizing just how short a leash Catherine had kept her daughter on. The fact that Anne didn't even _know_ she had her own property and income was beyond the limits of acceptable. Darcy swore under his breath at the sheer nerve of his aunt. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked over at his cousin, who had practically been kept prisoner by her own mother for the last 13 years. He felt ashamed that she had suffered so much while he and Georgiana and Richard had gone about their day-to-day lives with barely a thought for her.

"I'm asking you, Anne, because the sugarcane farm and the house in Savannah are _yours._ Your father left those to you and you alone. Richard and I have been managing the property and the income from it until you were ready to take control."

"But the house, the house is fire damaged." She almost pleaded. She didn't want for it to be true, that would make her mother worse than even _she'd_ suspected.

"Fire, what fire? No the house is perfectly sound. Anne, you have your own home and your own money, quite a lot of it too. We thought you knew…" He trailed off, suddenly worried that her face had gone completely white. She trembled visibly and he asked her to sit down.

"I don't _want_ to sit down, Will. I _want_ to have a few minutes alone with mother. I think it's a probablygood thing I'm nowhere near her now."

Anne's chest hitched, and Darcy braced himself for the inevitable tears. But tears did not come. Instead, she reached for the delicate porcelain dish that sat on a nearby table and threw it with surprising force at the fireplace, where it didn't so much shatter as disintegrate on impact.

He looked at Anne, shocked at her outburst but by no means upset. He hadn't seen so much spirit from her since they were children. A smile crept on his face and he asked her if she felt better now.

"Not quite, but I'll adjust." She was still pale as a sheet, her chest heaving and eyes steely.

He walked over to a shelf and retrieved a small figurine. It was _Leda and the Swan_, and Darcy and Georgiana had always found it hideous. They'd only kept it because it had been their mother's, even though it was one of many awful trinkets that littered the house. He handed it to Anne now.

"Maybe this will help. Let's see if you can break that as well as the last one. And when you're done I'll have Mrs. Reynolds find the rest of these ugly things and have them brought up."

Anne smiled at Darcy, a real and genuine smile. She wasn't used to it, but it felt good all the same. She took the figurine, weighing it speculatively with one hand.

"Maybe after we destroy some more of Aunt Darcy's china you'll teach me what you know about estate management."

"It would be my pleasure."

* * *

Elizabeth walked in to the living room just as something small and shiny sailed through the air and exploded against the stone fireplace. She stood frozen in place, wide-eyed at the picture of Darcy with his sleeves rolled up, lobbing a figurine (it looked like a lamb) in the same direction. Beside him stood a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Georgiana, perhaps with a larger nose and forehead. She turned and saw Elizabeth, then looked over at the growing pile of porcelain shards by the fireplace as if trying to figure out how to explain them.

"Am I interrupting?" Elizabeth asked from the doorway. Darcy turned, startled by her arrival. Anne saw the change in his face, like someone had turned a light on behind his eyes. It was obvious that he was very much in love. _That lucky bastard, _she thought. He walked over to the girl Anne assumed was Elizabeth, putting an arm around her waist.

"Lizzie, this is my cousin Anne deBourgh. Anne, this is Elizabeth Bennet."

Elizabeth smiled brightly at Anne and held out her hand. Anne looked at it for a moment before taking it in her own and giving it a quick shake.

"I see you two have been redecorating." Elizabeth nodded towards the small saucer (the next missile) Anne held in her hand.

"Er…"

"Anne and I were working out some estate business and found an…_inventive_ way of blowing off steam." Darcy interrupted. "I hope you don't mind, since this ugly porcelain will also be yours soon enough."

"Oh heaven forbid!" Elizabeth laughed, "It actually looks like fun."

She smiled a disarming smile and Anne understood why Darcy had fallen in love with this unpretentious young woman as opposed to many of the society women who had been after him (and his money) for years. Her dark eyes shone with quick intelligence and good humor. She had an easy smile and seemed to be very approachable. Anne liked her instantly. She held the saucer out to Elizabeth, who took it with a smile.

"By all means, give it a go." Anne said, making Darcy laugh.

Elizabeth turned to the side and took a moment to aim before throwing the saucer, Frisbee-style. It zipped through the air and hit the fireplace with a terrific smash.

"What else can we break?" she asked with a satisfied smile. Darcy's eyes lit up and he grinned mischievously.

"I've got an idea."

* * *

Claire rolled down the window and let the crisp mountain air flood the car. A thin sheen of sweat covered her face, the sharp turns and winding roads through the mountains had been too much for her stomach, which was already weak from morning sickness. Richard had already pulled over once, and was now driving as slowly as he possibly could to prevent her from getting sick again.

"Richard, it's fine." She protested weakly. "The cold air helps, really."

He looked torn between worry for her and irritation for himself, for not having considered her condition.

"If you need for me to pull over again, just say the word."

"I _said_ I was fine." She said shortly, "I'm not the first woman to ever be pregnant, you know."

Richard wisely stifled his reply, which was that she was the first woman to ever be pregnant by _him_. He would be relieved to finally get out of the car, and get Claire off of the mountain roads. They passed the sign advertising the Pemberly Orchards. Thirty more miles to go.

* * *

Wickham slowed down as he passed through the small town of Summerville. He'd left his post without permission, and by now Denny would have figured out that Wickham had no intention of returning his Pontiac. It was no time to get pulled over for speeding. He muttered a curse directed at Darcy. Lydia Bennet's father had made a call to his superior, Colonel Forester, who in turn had wanted to "have a chat" with Wickham before the day was out.

_Better to get while the getting's good,_ Wickham thought as he drove slowly past the drive in, some crumbling old houses and the Esso station that made up the town. He commanded himself to be patient, even at this slow pace.

In less than an hour, he parked on the curb across the street from the North Charleston Girl's School.


	21. A Precipice In Front

_A/N: Sorry this has been so long...I just started a new job this month which has unfortunately occupied much of my time. Now that my schedule is settled I hope to be uploading more chapters by the end of the week! Also, I do plan to wrap this up in the next few chapters, so THANK YOU to everyone for all of your patience and lovely comments! I hope you enjoy! _

* * *

Holding Claire's hand in his own, Richard made his way out to Pemberley's south lawn. Mrs. Reynolds had informed him on their arrival that Darcy, Elizabeth, Georgiana and Anne were all out there. Richard thought he couldn't have been more surprised than hearing that Anne was there, without Aunt Catherine or the ever-present Mrs. Jenkinson. That was, until he saw what was actually happening on the south lawn.

His cousins stood in a cluster behind someone; Richard saw a cascade of dark curls and realized with a jolt that it was Elizabeth. Lined up on one side of the lawn was what appeared to be an assortment of knick-knacks. He recognized some of the Hummel figurines Aunt Catherine had given to Georgiana for the past ten birthdays. As he watched, Elizabeth raised a slingshot in her left hand and drew the cup back with her right. He didn't even realize she'd released it until one of the figurines shattered a moment later. Richard couldn't help but be impressed, the solider in him thought she would probably make an excellent shot if she were ever given the chance. He was stunned to see Anne step up a moment later, and under Elizabeth's careful instruction she was able to nick one of the targets herself.

She laughed as Elizabeth cheered and hooked their arms together, twirling in an impromptu victory dance. Feeling an involuntary thrill of panic, Richard's eyes darted from Elizabeth to Claire, who seemed puzzled but charmed by the scene in front of her. He hadn't anticipated that Elizabeth might also be there. Though he'd put the past and his feelings about her aside, the _memory_ of those feelings intruded on his peace of mind. He felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, only hoping it would go unnoticed. _Get a grip, man!_ He chastised himself.

Georgiana was turning to say something to Darcy when she saw them, her face breaking out in a wide grin.

"Richard!" she squealed, breaking in to a run and closing the distance between them on the lawn.

"Georgie!" he called back, sweeping her up in a hug. The others had noticed them just after Georgiana. Anne was right behind her, followed by Darcy and Elizabeth who walked arm in arm.

"Anne, I can hardly believe it!" Richards said as he gave her a one-armed hug. Stepping back, he noticed she was as pale as always, and there were dark circles under her eyes. He wondered what must have happened to bring her here all alone.

"I'm still trying to believe it myself, Ritchie. It's a dreary story, so I'll let Will tell you later." Anne said. She looked from her cousin Claire and back at him expectantly. Darcy and Elizabeth had just reached them as Richard remembered his manners and made the introductions, pointing to each of them in turn.

"Claire, this is my cousin Georgiana, my cousin Anne deBourgh, my cousin Will and his fiancée Elizabeth Bennet." Claire smiled and nodded her head to each of them in turn.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet my wife, Claire."

Everyone was silent for a moment before a chorus of congratulations and well wishes erupted from the group. Darcy kissed Claire on the cheek before clapping Richard on the back hard enough to almost send him stumbling.

"Damn you for beating me to the punch" He said to Richard under his breath so the others couldn't hear. Richard laughed to hide his discomfort and pointed out the mess of toppled and broken porcelain on the other end of the yard.

"What on earth are you all doing out here?"

"_You All?_" Georgiana said, "Richard, I hate to say it but you're sounding a little bit _northern._"

"Are you calling me a Yankee, Georgiana Darcy?" Richard scoffed.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'Midwestern'," Claire chimed in.

"Oh I hope you don't mind, Claire," Elizabeth said before Richard or Georgiana could respond, "It's all Yankee to us, I'm afraid."

"Just don't tell anyone I'm trespassing" Claire joked along, "I'd hate to get kicked out, there's probably already a foot of snow on the ground in Saint Paul."

"A foot of snow?" Elizabeth could hardly imagine it. She didn't think she'd ever seen more than a few inches of snow at a time in her life. "In that case we'll consider you an honorary southerner."

"I'd love it!" Claire said with a laugh and a genuine smile. She'd heard from Richard that Darcy's fiancée was an enthusiastic, witty sort of girl so she was not entirely taken aback by this exchange.

"To answer your question" Darcy said, "Elizabeth was helping us clear out some of the trash."

"What few pieces you and Anne didn't destroy already!" Elizabeth interjected. Anne chuckled at Richard's flabbergasted expression. He was only more shocked when Claire went to stand by Elizabeth and asked with a wicked glint in her eye,

"Do you think I could try?"

And so they passed the afternoon, this odd mix of American Nobility, Genteel Farm Girl, and a Midwestern college professor. As Richard and Darcy were cleaning up the broken glass and Georgiana and Elizabeth were setting up the croquet set the Gardiners joined them. Both of who were happy to meet Richard and Claire. Richard was grateful for Mrs. Gardiner's tact, since he'd not told Claire about his history with Elizabeth Bennet. Not that he worried over her reaction, but it was something he'd been loath to share with anyone before.

For her part, Mrs. Gardiner was a little appalled to find Elizabeth teaching the painfully shy Anne DeBourgh how to use a slingshot, now using stacked rocks as targets rather than fragile china. But on hearing Anne's peal of victorious laughter at her 'hit', she relaxed. Elizabeth was only doing what Elizabeth did best, drawing people in, bringing them together. Mrs. Gardiner stepped back and looked at her niece's handiwork. The more the afternoon wore on, the less the group resembled a hodgepodge gathering; they looked more like a family.

* * *

Jane was beginning to suspect her future husband was a bit of a pack rat. She opened the desk drawer and pushed aside a stack of receipts, old newspapers, a broken cuff link and a ring of keys, not finding the one thing she was looking for, a pen or pencil. She smiled to herself as she navigated the clutter around Charles' desk, still not finding she needed. Perhaps one day she would tire of his method of 'organization', but for now she still found it endearing.

Charles had asked Jane to come to Netherfield to put together a shopping list for the wedding reception and luncheon. Happy to escape her mother, who had gotten close to unbearable since their engagement, Jane suspected this was part of Charles' intent by asking for the list in the first place. There was the additional bonus of an empty house, as Caroline was staying in Columbia with Louisa and Mr. Hurst for the weekend. Jane took a few moments to relish the peace and quiet, and thought about Elizabeth all the way up in North Carolina, hoping her sister was enjoying her absence from the noisy bustle of Longbourn.

She'd thought that with poor Lydia's absence, things would settle down some. But the "unfairness of it all" seemed only to give their mother a new energy, and between that, Kitty's wailing over her missing partner-in-crime, Mary's pontificating, and the upcoming wedding, it was all becoming a bit too much for Jane. She could happily dig for pencils for the rest of the afternoon as long as she could have silence while she did so.

Sighing heavily to herself, Jane gave up on finding anything useful in Charles' desk, and made her way over to the small secretary in the sitting room. She found a silver cup full of pencils in the first drawer she opened, and took two. She began to shut the drawer when something caught her eye, making her blink in confusion. It was a letter from Elizabeth to her. _I must have dropped it the last time I was here_. She plucked it out of the drawer, surprised to see several other scraps of paper fall out of the envelope.

One such scrap fell directly into Jane's lap, and she picked it up and read it, disbelief coloring her lovely features. She grabbed for the next piece of paper and read it, despite the scratch marks where words and lines had been crossed out entirely, rewritten. She read every piece of paper that had fallen out of the envelope, some of them only 'practice' sheets where her sister's handwriting was being copied. Understanding and Anger found her at the same time, and as Jane gathered up all of the evidence, she promised herself a meeting with her future sister in law. Soon.

* * *

_Dearest Richard, _

_How could I begin to tell you how lost I've felt since that night on the balcony at Netherfield? I wish I could say that I am happy with the choice I've made, but I've made it and little can be done about it now. I should have waited, should have thought things through, and should have chosen differently. You have no idea how the thought of you, the thought of a life with you, has haunted me. How could you even realize the depth of my feelings? Not only did I hide them well from you (and others) but also from myself. It wasn't until you left that I realized you were what had been missing all along. How could I know then what would be in store for me as his wife? How will I bear marrying him, when you are all I can see in front of me? _

_All I can do is make the best of things. My only hope is that you will tell me I'm not too late. I am begging you to tell me that I haven't lost you. One word from you and I'm yours forever. _

_Ever Yours,_

_Elizabeth_

Richard crumpled the letter in his shaking hand. Mrs. Reynolds had brought him a small stack of mail that had arrived for him, mostly business. The feminine script on the third envelope from the top had caught his eye, and he'd excused himself from lunch to look over his mail. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner had barely noticed his leaving, they'd been droning on and on about their plans for fishing the next morning.

Richard stole into Darcy's study and considered locking the door for a moment. He decided against it and instead made himself comfortable behind the large mahogany desk. The letter had no return address apart from 'Meryton, South Carolina'. Anxious to get to the bottom of this new mystery, Richard tore open the envelope and opened the short, handwritten note.

His mind refused to believe what he read there. Elizabeth didn't seem especially lovesick, or at least not for him. Her behavior he'd seen in the four days that they had been at Pemberley completely refuted the claims she'd made in the letter. Elizabeth seemed, by all outward appearances, perfectly happy with the prospect of her future with Darcy. There hadn't even been very much awkwardness between them, though he didn't see how that would be avoided now. He looked down and the wad of paper in his hand and smoothed it out, re-reading the letter several times.

_I am begging you to tell me that I haven't lost you. _Those words all but ripped him apart, and for the first time in his life he almost hated a woman. His blood seemed to roar in his ears and he felt a flash of uncontrollable anger. He wondered how it could be possible that she could be so much in love with him and _appear_ to be so in love with Darcy at the same time. That thought gave Richard pause, and he considered Elizabeth's behavior towards him.

There was, and he hated to admit it, a small part of himself that secretly rejoiced in the thought that Elizabeth had wanted him._ Yes, and I'm sure your pregnant wife would just love it!_ Richard cursed himself, Elizabeth, Darcy, and poor blameless Claire. He even cursed Mrs. Reynolds for bringing him the wretched letter in the first place. He considered burning it, but had neither the time nor the privacy for that.

_Besides, _he told himself, _something is just not adding up. _

He thought that if anything, he should maybe stash the letter somewhere for safekeeping until he could sort out what it really meant. He grabbed a book off of Darcy's bookshelf and put the letter towards the back, replacing it back on the shelf. He made a mental note which book it was, and thought the title, _Mysteries of Udolpho, _unique enough to make it memorable.

* * *

Though they were not nearly so spectacular as South Carolina sunsets, Elizabeth found the sunsets at Pemberley to be perfectly lovely. The air was sharp with the promise of winter; Elizabeth shivered and pulled her wool wrap closer around her. She stood on one of Pemberley's terraces, watching the sun go down over the valley. She barely started when she felt warm, strong arms encircle her waist from behind. Any nerves or anxiety for what the next few days would bring seemed to melt away in an instant. She knew she was safe, that there was nothing to fear.

_This is how it will always be for us, _she thought with a savage satisfaction. She felt his cheek against hers, tried not to giggle like a schoolgirl when he spoke in her ear.

"Enjoying the view, Mrs. Darcy?" Elizabeth smiled, a small, secret smile and turned in his arms until they were face-to-face. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him softly on his cheek, his temple, and the corner of his mouth. After a moment he cupped her head and kissed her fully, without restraint. Her arms went around his shoulders, her fingers sinking into his dark curls.

They didn't realize that at that moment, they had an audience of one. They never even heard the door to the music room closing behind them.

* * *

The Whiskey burned going down, but he supposed that was the point.

_Married. Goddamn._

Richard shook his head and poured another glass, knocking back Darcy's 120-year-old Scotch. He supposed he had no reason to be shocked, wasn't he married after all? Claire was hopefully still downstairs with Anne, Georgiana and the Gardiners. Richard couldn't explain the hard knot that had formed in his belly when he'd overheard his cousin. He'd simply meant to try to get a moment alone with Elizabeth; to try to ascertain weather that letter was her idea of a joke. He was still irrationally angry, and had taken great pains to hide it from everyone, especially Claire, over dinner.

And now…

_Why am I so upset? _He asked himself. _It's not as if you didn't know they were engaged. It's not as if you don't have Claire. _Richard considered his time in the war. War was simple, direct. Stop your enemy. _But women_? He shook his head, savoring the warmth spreading through his chest from the alcohol. Richard wasn't sure that he didn't prefer battle.

* * *

Elizabeth pulled away a bit, looked up at Darcy with pink cheeks and dancing eyes.

"It's _not_ Mrs. Darcy yet, dear William. Not until tomorrow. For now, I'm still Miss Bennet to you."

"_You_ have not been Miss Bennet to me, ever. Siren, temptress, tormentor, sure. But _Miss Bennet_ never."

Elizabeth fixed him with an arch look. "Will Darcy, you think the sun comes up just to hear you crow."

He laughed and pulled her closer to him. "Someday, Lizzie, I am going to write down all of your charming expressions." She joined his laugh with her own.

"You can _try_."

* * *

Later that night, Darcy paced the length of his study in his bare feet. He ran a hand through his hair and uttered an angry exclamation. Where the hell was Mr. Gardiner? He'd sent a maid to summon Elizabeth's uncle to his study almost immediately after hanging up the phone. In his happiness, he'd almost forgotten the ever-present thorn in his side. _Damn Wickham!_ It was almost as though the world at large was conspiring to come between him and Elizabeth. She'd agreed to marry early, and after speaking with Mr. Bennet, her uncle had given them the family's blessing. They were due at the small chapel just outside of Pemberley's grounds the next morning. Now, there was no telling when that would take place.

Mr. Gardiner arrived at last, still dressed. He looked decidedly wary when he noticed Darcy's near-frantic state of mind.

"Mr. Gardiner, Ed, I'm sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I'm afraid we have a serious problem."

"A problem? What's happened? Is it Tom?"

"No, I promise, Mr. Bennet is fine. Well, he's healthy in any case. I'm afraid the problem is your niece. Your youngest."

Mr. Gardiner rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the leather sofa.

"What has Lydia done now? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"She hasn't done anything…exactly. It seems as though she's gone missing."


	22. The Mighty

A small summit was being held in Darcy's study. Richard, Elizabeth and the Gardiners all sat processing what Darcy had just told them. The only sound was a small, hitching sob that came from Elizabeth's direction. Her aunt put her arms around her, rubbing circles on her back and gently rocking. No one noticed Richard's brief, narrowed glare in her direction.

"Stupid, thoughtless Lydia!" Elizabeth cried into her aunt's shoulder.

Darcy had just related the phone conversation he'd had with Jack Preston about an hour previously.

Richard tried to wipe his annoyance off of his face and school his features into a more concerned look. He _was_ concerned, truth be told. He knew perfectly well how capable Wickham was of abducting an underage girl under false pretenses. He sipped the strong, black coffee Mrs. Reynolds had brought up and considered Elizabeth. He'd spent most of the day feeling angry at her for the letter. Now, seeing her so distraught over the fate of her youngest sister, seeing her eyes bright with tears softened his anger. He absently rubbed his palm against the scar on his neck.

"What does Preston know now?" Richard asked, trying to gather his wits about him.

"He knows that Wickham went AWOL, stole a car from one of his fellow officers and hasn't been seen in Meryton in almost a week. He's spoken with several of Lydia's classmates, and knows that she left her roommate, Harriet, a note. Darcy's eyes darted to Elizabeth as he relayed this piece of news, he saw her hang her head in shame, covering her face with her hands. Not for the first time, he promised himself he'd break something besides Wickham's nose.

"I think our best bet," Richard interrupted his violent daydream, "Is to locate him and turn him over to the Army for court martial." Darcy had actually been thinking the bottom of the Cape Fear River, but agreed that Richard's method was probably smarter.

"But locating him…therein lies the problem." Mr. Gardiner ruminated.

Darcy nodded. That was the problem, alright.

"I know of two possibilities." He said, resuming his pacing. "One, his boat in Myrtle Beach. He could be living on it, or have Lydia stashed away there. Two, he could have headed for familiar territory, where he knows he has an ally."

"You mean that cow Mrs. Younge." Richard drawled. Darcy smirked at his cousin and ran his hand through his hair, practically yanking on it.

"Yes, the very same cow."

"How should we start?" Mr. Gardiner asked. "I know Tom is going to want my help."

"I have Preston already en route to check out the boat. I'll make some calls and find out if we can get an address for Mrs. Younge. Richard…"

"I'll make some calls of my own." Richard nodded.

"I should go home." Elizabeth said in a small, defeated voice that made Darcy's hands tremble for wanting to touch her. Instead, he knelt down in front of her, tilting her chin up until her dark eyes met his.

"Lizzie, you _are _home." He said gently, then took her hands and kissed each palm gently.

"Besides, we need someone to stay here and keep an eye on Georgiana." Elizabeth's laugh sounded slightly strangled.

"Because Georgie is such a troublemaker." She said. Richard and Darcy both looked uncomfortable.

"Well, considering who it is…" Darcy began, then stopped when Elizabeth's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh! Of course. I'm sorry, Will."

"Shh, don't give it another thought." He kissed her cheek.

"Elizabeth," Mrs. Gardiner cut in, using her most motherly tone. "Don't worry about your mother or your sisters. I'll go back to Longbourn and make sure everyone is taken care of."

Elizabeth sniffed and threw her arms around her aunt. "Thank you! Tell my sisters and my parents that I love them. Especially Jane. How can I let Jane deal with this alone?"

"Elizabeth, hush." Mrs. Gardiner chided. "She's hardly alone!"

"Claire is expecting." Richard said, out of the blue. Everyone looked at him in shocked silence. He colored in embarrassment but continued.

"We wanted to wait…a while longer before announcing it." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Richard…" Darcy trailed off, a slow smile coming across his face. Richard ignored him, instead looking Elizabeth squarely in the eyes.

"I'll have to go to DC for a few days. Besides myself and Darcy, I don't think there is anyone I would trust more to take care of her than you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth blinked once, twice before taking a deep breath and squaring her slim shoulders.

"Thank you, Richard." Darcy squeezed his cousin's shoulder.

"I'm happy for you." He said in a low voice. Richard nodded but said nothing. He stood up and walked towards the door.

"I'm going to get some sleep, goodnight everybody.' Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner soon followed, the latter pausing to kiss her niece and pat Darcy's cheek before leaving the room.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, still seated, who was drying her face with the sleeve of her robe.

"Well, Lizzie? What'll it be?" he said, his voice shaky. Elizabeth wanted to hide under the sofa. She was deeply worried for her sister, and had a suspicion that Lydia was not entirely blameless in the affair. The very idea that her own sister was forcing Darcy to bear the burden of tracking down the person he hated most in the world was almost too much for her.

Elizabeth looked up, regarded him steadily with an answer in her eyes.

* * *

Caroline left her bags at the door for the housekeeper. She stalked through the front rooms of Netherfield, looking for Charles or that bumpkin fiancée of his. She found herself alone, or so she thought at first. Kicking off her shoes, she threw herself onto the sofa in the sitting room, sighing contentedly to herself. It had been a pleasant weekend, shopping in the Vista with Louisa and Mr. Hurst's sisters. While Louisa was moderately pretty, Judith and Pearl Hurst had the misfortune to resemble their brother, which meant that Caroline stood out as the most attractive, which was of course exactly as she liked it.

She stretched like a cat and actually looked in the room, giving a little yelp of surprise when she saw Jane Bennet sitting in the corner, wearing an uncharacteristically stony expression.

"Jane, for heaven's sake!" she exclaimed, fanning herself with a well-manicured hand. "You scared me half to death!"

"Hello, Caroline." Jane said without an ounce of emotion in her voice.

"Jane, whatever is the matter?" Caroline didn't bother to disguise her annoyance. Her future sister-in-law raised her eyebrows and reached into the pocket of her green dress, pulling out an envelope and several loose bits of paper. Caroline felt a cold trickle of fear down her spine.

"Jane dear, let me explain…" she began.

"You can imagine," Jane interrupted her, eerily calm, "how relieved I was to find this letter from my sister. I was so sure I'd dropped it somewhere." She reached into the envelope and pulled out the stolen grocery list and a few of Caroline's 'practice' sheets.

"You can _further _imagine how confused I was to find one of my sister's shopping lists and evidence that someone had been attempting to copy her handwriting. What's worse, is that _someone_ seems to have gone to all this trouble in an effort to sabotage my sister's happiness. And Mr. Darcy's, of course. Would you care to enlighten me, Caroline?"

"_How dare you!"_ Caroline stood up, full of the kind of self-righteous indignation only the guilty possessed.

"Who told you that you could snoop through our private property? Who told you that you could put your white trash hands on _my_ desk, which probably costs more than what your family makes in a year?"

Caroline didn't even see Jane raise her hand as she struck out, quick as a snake, and slapped her across the face. He head recoiled in shock, and she raised her hand to her hot, stinging cheek.

For herself, Jane could hardly believe what she'd just done. She'd never struck anyone or anything in her entire life. _Of course, I don't remember ever being so provoked!_ She was somewhat horrified, but a part of her felt a fierce sense of power. Her eyes shone as hard as diamonds, and her face had gone pale but for two spots of angry color high on her cheeks. She had never looked more beautiful as she did at that moment; with no one present but Caroline Bingley see it.

Caroline was still holding her cheek.

"I know you are trying to cause trouble with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. If I find out that there have been any problems between them because of you and your mischief, I won't hesitate to tell Charles every shameful detail. We 'white trash' Bennets? We watch each others backs. For now," she said, tucking the evidence back into her pocket, "I'm going to make sure these are in a _safe_ place."

Jane stood to go, but paused at the door.

"You know, there was a time I was truly happy to be considered a friend and future sister to you. That was before I realized you were a cold, heartless spinster with no hope of happiness save what you can leach off of others. I think I pity you." She looked over her shoulder one last time before walking out of the room.

"I'll be watching you, Caroline."

* * *

Two days later, an exhausted Darcy met with an equally exhausted Jack Preston in a small diner in Charleston, near the waterfront, that boasted the best peach pie in the state. If Richard were with him, he would have savored the irony.

As it was, Darcy and Jack sat in one of Matlock's booths, nursing cups of coffee with heads bent over a sheaf of scribbled notes, mostly dock numbers and names of Harbor Masters. Darcy's confrontation with the Cow Mrs. Younge had gone exactly as he predicted it would. She'd hemmed and hawed and protested her innocence, and finally given him what he needed when the right price was met.

_Edisto Island pier. Slip 29._

Richard had already arranged for Wickham's Army Escort, and would soon be heading back from DC to Pemberley. Darcy looked out the window at the sun-baked streets and thought of Elizabeth. He knew she'd spent many summers in Charleston, if he thought about it he could almost picture her, walking down the very sidewalk he stared at, as if he was trying to make her appear.

_Of course the last time she was here it was with Richard._ He swallowed the old bitter jealousy. That obstacle was long gone.

"Darcy? Do you mind?" His friend called him back to the present.

Darcy shook his head, trying to clear it of Elizabeth for the time being. Jack was right, he needed to focus.

"Sorry, Jack. The last few days have been beyond hectic. Where were we?"

Jack looked at Darcy with a lopsided, knowing smile. "_We_ were leaving, _you_ were paying." He stood and began gathering their notes with one hand, holding his coffee cup with the other. Darcy watched as he drained the still-steaming brew in one long pull. It was impressive.

"Thanks again for everything, Jack." Darcy said once they were back on the road.

"No need to thank me, Darcy, you're paying me after all. Quite a lot, I might add."

"Whatever you're charging me, I'm still giving you a bonus when we wrap this one up."

"I'll take it!" Jack laughed. Unlike his good friend Richard Fitzwilliam, Jack Preston had not grown up moderately wealthy, or even surrounded by wealth. He'd been fortunate enough just to make it to VMI, then through the war. He'd always lived a simple, modest life, but that didn't mean he was ever of a mind to turn down a fat paycheck, not when it was hard-earned.

He looked over at his companion who was once again gazing out the window with that same thoughtful expression on his face. Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. _Women!,_ he thought ruefully. Just look at what one Broad had done to Will Darcy. Stoic, reserved Darcy was at that very moment daydreaming! _Oh, how the mighty have fallen. _Jack laughed to himself. He liked women and enjoyed their company, but had never felt drawn to any one woman in particular. He was content to play the charming bachelor.

_Love, ha! _He thought derisively. There was no way he would ever let himself fall into _that_ trap.

* * *

The ladies at Pemberley did their best to entertain each other over the next few days, though each of them had their own problems that they were trying to work through.

Anne was still trying to cope with the confrontation with her mother, the separation from Mrs. Jenkinson, her new-found independence, and the fact that she'd been kept a prisoner in her own home for the last thirteen years. Elizabeth was anxious about the fate of her sister, embarrassed that Darcy had put himself in charge of Lydia's retrieval, and worried for Georgiana's sake. Georgiana was angry at Wickham for taking advantage of another young girl, this time for no other apparent reason than revenge on her brother. She felt a great deal of guilt over the whole affair. _If I'd never tried to run off with him, _she reasoned, _he wouldn't have any reason for revenge. _

Claire couldn't exactly put a name to what she was feeling. Part of it was the usual awkwardness that came with getting to know someone. Though she felt easy enough with Anne, Georgiana and Elizabeth, she realized that a few weeks ago all four of them had been strangers to each other (Georgiana and Anne not having seen each other since Georgiana was seven years old). She'd also noticed that Richard had been oddly stiff and formal starting a few days after they'd arrived, and more than once had noticed him throwing hard glares at Darcy and Elizabeth.

She'd asked him one night if he was angry at his cousin, and he'd instantly answered in the negative. She couldn't imagine why he'd be angry at Elizabeth; everyone around her seemed to be charmed by her. _Including me, _Claire thought. Darcy and Richard were as close as brothers; it would be like having a sister. She'd said as much to Elizabeth that morning as they walked along the flagstone path through the gardens, bundled in sweaters and shawls. Elizabeth had laughed and told Claire that if there was one thing she was an expert at, it was being a sister.

"And I would be happy, so very happy," she'd said, taking Claire's hand in her own, "if you would think of me as your sister." She'd sincerely meant it. Despite everything that had happened, up until Lydia of course, Elizabeth couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd felt more at home. She missed her family, she missed Jane almost palpably, but she adored Georgiana and found herself becoming closer to Anne and Claire with each passing day. And she loved Pemberley, she knew that she was already putting roots down despite her misgivings.

Claire had never met anyone like Elizabeth. She was so warm and bold and completely and utterly whole. The rest of them, slightly broken and battered, all seemed to gravitate around her like planets orbiting the sun.

It was a quiet night, several days after Darcy, Richard and the Gardiner's had left, and they'd been quite entertained by Anne and Georgiana's stories of Richard and Darcy in their youth. Elizabeth had shared some amusing stories about growing up in a houseful of girls, an experience to which none of them could relate. Finally, Georgiana sat up, pointing at a spot high on the bookshelf in the living room.

"I almost forgot! We've got an entire box of family photos up there!" she turned excitedly to Anne, "I think we even have some of you up there, Anne, and James!"

This got Claire's attention. She'd been naturally curious about Richard's older brother who'd died in the Pacific, but knew by now that there were certain subjects with her husband that were off-limits. James was one of those subjects.

Elizabeth tried to contain the spark of memory that came with the mention of James Fitzwilliam; the memory of sitting in a booth, a cup of coffee and a slice of peach pie in front of her. She pushed it down and away.

"I'll go ask Mrs. Reynolds where the ladder is!" Georgiana could barely contain her excitement as she practically bounced out of the room.

"And I think I'll hunt down a cup of cocoa" Elizabeth said, shaking off her reverie. "Can I bring you one back, Claire, Anne?"

"Oh, I'll come along and help you carry. Claire?" Anne said.

Claire was staring, as if mesmerized at the box up on the shelf. It almost beckoned to her, promising the key to her husband's secretive nature. _Is it prying? _She asked herself. _Would he really not want me to know about them, or is it just too painful for him to speak of?_

"Claire?" Elizabeth asked again. Claire forced a smile. "I'd love a cup of cocoa, thank you." Elizabeth seemed unsure but left the room with Anne, who was already chatting happily about her upcoming visit to her house in Savannah.

Claire stood and walked over to the bookshelf. It wasn't just a simple bookcase, but a massive floor-to ceiling structure that was built in to the wall. The mellow walnut seemed to glow from within from years of polishing, and the books were stacked neatly, interrupted by the occasional trinket or photo. She put a hand on one shelf, testing its strength. Gingerly, carefully, she began to climb. On the fifth shelf, she was startled by a spider, inches from her face and crawling across a copy of _The Iliad._ It was the last thing she would see for the next thirty-six hours.

Elizabeth was halfway to the kitchen when she realized she'd forgotten to ask if Claire wanted cinnamon in her hot chocolate.

"I'll catch up with you Anne" she said, turning back. She'd felt somewhat uneasy by the oddly vacant look on her new friend's face. She supposed pregnancy was part of it. That thought was immediately followed by the question of whether or not pregnant women got tired of everything being blamed on their condition.

She opened the door to the living room, and the question died on her lips. Claire was no longer curled up on the couch as she had been when Elizabeth had left the room, but was now literally scaling the shelf. Cold terror gripped Elizabeth as she heard Claire give a little yelp of surprise, recoiling at something in front of her before losing her footing. She wasn't terribly high up, perhaps six feet, but Elizabeth saw that Claire's trajectory would put her right in the path of a large, ornate _commode_ with a shiny marble top.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Elizabeth ran to put herself in Claire's path, but she seemed to be running through syrup all of the sudden. She saw Claire flailing at the shelf to regain her grip, then falling back, striking her head on the cold marble, a small jet of red erupting as she did.

A scream erupted from the doorway as Georgiana and Anne had just walked in, seeing the whole thing. Elizabeth wasn't sure which one of them screamed but she turned to them first, taking Georgiana's shoulders in a firm grip.

"GEORGIE!" Elizabeth shouted, slightly shaking the girl, forcing her to look up at her.

"Go get Mrs. Reynolds, NOW! Tell her we need a doctor here yesterday!" Georgiana nodded almost absently and Elizabeth shook her slightly again. "GO!" she said, hustling her out the door.

Elizabeth grabbed Anne and pulled her over to where Claire lay bleeding on the floor.

"Don't' move her" She instructed as she looked at where the blood was pooling on the floor and swallowed the gorge that rose in her throat. Anne knelt down near Claire's face.

"She's breathing!" Anne cried.

Elizabeth was shrugging off her robe. "Anne, find me some scissors and a blanket." She touched Claire's hand. It was like ice.

Anne went straight to the sewing basket in the corner and pulled out the scissors. She handed them to Elizabeth and covered Claire to her shoulders in the quilt she'd brought from her own room earlier that evening. She always got cold in Pemberley's main living room.

"Rub her hands and arms to warm them" Elizabeth commanded. Anne obeyed, at first a bit repulsed by the cold wetness of Claire's skin. Anne looked at Elizabeth, who was so steady that not even her voice had wavered since it happened. Anne steeled herself and did as she was told, eventually Claire's hands began to feel a bit closer to normal temperature.

Elizabeth used the scissors to cut a strip off of her robe, pressing the makeshift bandage into the gash on Claire's head, which still poured blood. She realized it was soaking into Darcy's new rug and uttered a nervous, manic laugh. She watched the pale yellow fabric turn a sickening red and thought, _How much more, God? How much more?_

_

* * *

_The doctor seemed a bit young and handsome to Elizabeth, but then she'd only ever known Doc Jones, who had seemed ancient since she was a small girl. Dr. Perry was also much nicer, less curmudgeonly than Doc Jones, but once he started examining Claire, got right down to business and was every bit the professional. He called the closest hospital, NC Presbyterian, and had an ambulance sent over immediately.

The head wound he patched up at once, putting seventeen stitches in Claire's scalp. "Looks worse than it is" he dismissed, "head wounds always are because they bleed like a son of a bitch." Elizabeth didn't have the strength to smile; she had never felt so exhausted in her entire life. She watched mutely as Dr. Perry opened one of Claire's eyelids and shone a light in her eye, and then did the same with the other. He'd already checked her vitals when he first arrived, he now checked them again, pausing to make a note of her heart rate and blood pressure.

"Her breath sounds are good, we'll need to take a look and make sure nothing's broken."

"Will she wake up?" Elizabeth asked miserably.

"Let's just say if she doesn't open her eyes in the next seventy-two hours, we'll start to worry."

The medics had been brought in by the tireless Mrs. Reynolds, and were carefully transferring Claire to a stretcher.

Elizabeth put a hand on Dr. Perry's sleeve. She didn't even notice that it was covered with dried, flaking blood that was now the color of rust.

"Doctor, there's one other thing. Mrs. Fitzwilliam, she's expecting." Dr. Perry nodded and began packing up his black bag.

"I'll note it on her chart, we'll check that too. Do you know far along?"

"About four and a half months?" Elizabeth struggled to remember the details of that particular conversation; her mind was refusing to cooperate.

She swayed where she stood, overwhelmed by what the past few days had brought. Lydia and Wickham, Will, Claire and the baby. Dr. Perry took her arm and gently led her over to the sofa, where hours ago the four of them had been talking and laughing, their problems neatly tucked away.

"You should get some rest." He said. Elizabeth shook her head childishly. For some reason this simple gesture affected Dr. Perry, reminding him of his own daughter, who had just turned thirteen.

"No, no I'm going with her." Elizabeth protested.

"We'll be running tests; you won't be able to be with her through that. It will take at least a couple of hours, if not all day. You need to rest, miss…?" He trailed off. He'd never gotten the name of Mrs. Fitzwilliam's friend.

"Darcy. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy."

* * *

Richard arrived at Pemberly to see his cousin Anne waiting for him on the front steps. Her eyes were red and she looked as if she hadn't slept in days.

"The gatehouse called to let us know you'd arrived." she started without preamble.

"What's going on, Anne?" Richard wanted to see his wife, take a bath, and eat dinner, in that order. He instantly became wary at the distraught look on Anne's pale face.

"Ritchie. There was an accident."

"Claire?" his voice came out muffled. Anne nodded. He felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut, hard.

"She's in the hospital. Presbyterian. Elizabeth's with her." Richard jerked like he'd gotten an electric shock.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, ANNE?" he shouted. Anne held her hands out to him, palms-up.

"She fell, she hit her head. We got the doctor here almost right away, they're running some tests."

"The baby?" he was almost afraid to ask. Anne couldn't meet his eye.

"I don't know." she barely mumbled the words, but he heard them well enough. He turned and left, everything forgotten except Claire.

Elizabeth sat by Claire's bedside for twelve straight hours, only leaving to visit the restroom or speak to a nurse. She'd finally fallen asleep in the hard little chair, her head resting on her arm, partially hidden by a curtain of dark curls. Claire opened her eyes for a moment, she saw Elizabeth and wanted to tell her that she'd love a cup of cocoa, but her mouth seemed glued shut and her eyelids seemed almost weighted. She closed her eyes without making a sound, drifting off to sleep again.

Richard all but burst into the room, startling Elizabeth awake. He took no notice of her, only knelt by his wife, stroking her honey-colored hair back from her brow.

"Oh Claire. Sweet Claire." he said quietly. A warm tear fell from his face on to hers, he wiped it away absently. Elizabeth rose to leave the room so that Richard could have some privacy. She was startled to feel him take a firm grip on her elbow and steer her out of the room, closing the door before gathering her up in his arms and crushing her to him. She felt herself go rigid with surprise. He released her gently, keeping one hand on her shoulder.

"The doctor told me you haven't left her side. He told me how quickly you reacted. I don't know what to say to you." He hung his head and fought to control himself.

"Of course I stayed with her." Elizabeth said, awkwardly patting his hand. "We're family now. She's important to you, so she's important to me. And did the doctor tell you? The baby's fine! They think Claire is going to come around any time now."

Lost for words, he pulled her close again, clasping his arms around her briefly before letting her go for good. She looked away discreetly as he wiped his eyes.

"You should go home, you've been here all day." Elizabeth nodded. _Home._ "Have you heard from Will?" she hated to keep him from Claire but she had to ask.

"This morning. I think they had everything just about wrapped up. They may have found them." She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. _On to the next disaster._

"Darcy's driver is waiting for you outside. I'll take it from here." He kissed her forehead and ruffled her hair, every ounce of feeling for her gone, save his never-ending gratitude and admiration.

"Elizabeth." She had already begun walking towards the double doors, but turned when he called her name. "About the letter..."

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What letter? Do you need me to pick up the mail?"

He nodded to himself. He should have known. _Yes Little Sparrow, I am truly done this time._

"Nevermind."

* * *

Wickham's boat had been easy enough to find. It had once been ostentatious, but was now falling into disrepair, much like it's owner. The _Clarissa _was exactly where The Cow Mrs. Younge had told him it would be. The grayish-blue water surrounding the boat was strewn with trash, empty liquor bottles, and what appeared to be a good deal of dresses.

Darcy stood on the dock below, waiting for the MP's who had just arrived. He could hear shouting from inside.

"_Now _let's see you go out and have a good time! You're likely to find an all together different sort of good time dressed like _that_, my dear!"

"George Wickham, go out there and bring back my clothes_ right now_!" Lydia wailed.

Darcy sighed and plucked the closest thing floating near him (a certain blue dress that had been one of Elizabeth's hand-me-downs) and began squeezing as much water from it as he could.

"I will _not_ go get your clothes, I like you _much_ better like this. And if you were to be suddenly struck mute, I think I'd like you best of all, apart from that delectable sister of yours."

"Oh you are a rascal! I should have listened to my father!"

Wickham laughed, genuinely amused. "Yes, nobody ever seems to learn that lesson, do they?"

"Oh I _knew_ I shouldn't have married you!"

Darcy froze, horror-struck. The MP's were climbing into the boat, he could hear Lydia's girlish scream of surprise. One of them led her out above deck, Darcy saw she was dressed only in a flimsy slip. He'd never given her much thought, so he'd never truly noticed how closely she resembled Elizabeth. Their hair was the same color, the eyes held the same expression, as if she were waiting for everyone else to get the joke. It made Darcy want to protect her, shield her, at least until he could bring her back to Longbourn.

"What's going on? What's going to happen to me?"

"Your brother is here to pick you up." The officer seemed anxious to get rid of her.

"What Brother? I don't have a broth-" the word died in her throat when she saw Darcy standing on the dock. He raised his hand and gave her a little wave.

"Hello there, little sister."


	23. Blessings

Great gusts of wind blew leaves across the grounds and rattled the windowpanes in the main house. Elizabeth didn't stir at the sound, or for the sunrise. When Anne came to tell ask if she'd wanted breakfast, she'd simply rolled over and pulled the quilt over her head. Some time later, Georgiana came to tell her they were all going to the hospital to visit Claire. Elizabeth barely heard her. She felt a feather-light peck on her cheek, accompanied by the smell of tea roses, before the door clicked shut.

Elizabeth slept. Her physical exhaustion combined with the events of the past week had pushed her beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Everyone at Pemberley, from Georgiana and Anne right down to the kitchen maid, marveled that she was able to keep herself upright for as long as she did.

Once she arrived back from the hospital, rather than going straight to bed Elizabeth sought out Mrs. Reynolds and demanded that _she_ get some rest, delegating the housekeeper's tasks to several of the maids, speaking with the cook about meals over the next few days, and seeking out Mr. Hale with instructions for a tidy bonus and extra vacation time for the housekeeper.

Mr. Hale was deeply impressed by the new Mrs. Darcy. He'd been working for the Darcy's since he graduated from Yale, taking over for his own father who'd worked for them since taking over for _his_ father, and so on. He knew that the late Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would approve of the pretty, unassuming young woman just for the way she looked at their son when he entered the room. But her quick mind and generosity would have doubtlessly earned their respect.

"Mrs. Darcy, I can make all of the arrangements for Mrs. Reynolds." He protested, seeing her rubbing her eyes as she flipped through the payroll ledger.

"You really should get some rest." He could only imagine who Mr. Darcy would be shouting at when he arrived home to find his new bride comatose from exhaustion.

"Everyone keeps saying that." Elizabeth muttered. Mr. Hale mentally added 'stubborn' to his impression of Mrs. Darcy.

"Don't worry, Mr. Hale. I'm turning in soon, no need to report me to the boss." She managed a weak smile.

"Thank you, Mrs. Darcy." He did not mention that he believed _Mr._ Darcy was no longer 'the boss'.

Avoiding her big, empty bed for a little while longer, Elizabeth made a detour for the music room with one last task in mind. She found Georgiana sitting at the piano, not playing or even reading music but staring despondently out the window.

"May I join you, Georgie?"

"Elizabeth!" Georgiana jumped up and raced over to Elizabeth, throwing herself in her sister-in-law's arms.

"Shh, darling." She stroked Georgiana's hair and hummed while the girl cried onto her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry! I was no help at all, I just _stood_ there!" Georgiana finally choked out.

Elizabeth put a little distance between them, tucking a stray bit of hair behind Georgiana's ear.

"Is _that_ what you've been so upset about?"

"Well, that and what happened…" she trailed off, her complexion going faintly green. To Georgiana's great surprise, Elizabeth chuckled.

"It was perfectly normal for you to react that way, Georgie. And Claire is going to be alright."

"But you can't know that!"

"I _do _know that. I feel it, here" she said, putting her palm over her heart. Georgiana nodded but seemed doubtful. Elizabeth sighed and looked at the girl beside her. Sometimes she saw so much of Darcy in her. Aside from their hazel eyes and brown hair, they both had an air of naïveté that only the young and very wealthy are capable of. She gathered the girl's hands in her own.

"What happened last night was scary. You reacted the way most people would when they're afraid. You've got _nothing_ to be ashamed of, so stop beating yourself up, hm?"

"_You_ didn't react that way" Georgiana accused, "_You _didn't freeze up or scream."

"Well, who ever told you _I_ was normal?" Elizabeth joked. Georgiana favored her with a withering glare that would have made Caroline Bingley proud. Elizabeth said as much.

"Now _that_ is terrifying." Georgiana allowed, trying to hide her horror. They both laughed.

"Come on, little Ninny. Let's go see if there is any of that red velvet cake left."

The promise of red velvet cake was forgotten almost at once. Mr. Hale ran into the room, and at the exact same time the phone began to ring in the hall. Georgiana rushed to get the phone as Elizabeth turned to Mr. Hale, who was almost out of breath.

"Mr. Hale! Can I get you some water? Are you alright?"

"Mrs. Darcy, I've just heard from Mr. Preston. Your sister has been found and is on her way back to your family's farm with Mr. Darcy."

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth as tears erupted from her eyes.

"I believe she is unharmed," he seemed to finally have caught his breath, "though Mr. Preston indicated there were a few, ah, issues he'd discuss with yourself and Mr. Darcy later this week."

Elizabeth was attempting to bring herself under control, mopping her face with her sleeve when she heard Georgiana's shout from the hallway.

"She's awake, Lizzie! Claire's awake!"

Elizabeth, who'd been trying to stand up, simply collapsed in a heap on the floor, not bothering to cover the sobs that wouldn't stop coming. _The dam has collapsed; _she thought incoherently, _no stopping the tide._

She barely even registered when Mr. Hale had one of the cooks brought in, a burly man in starched whites. He scooped Elizabeth up as if she weighed nothing and followed Mr. Hale as he directed them to the master suite. Elizabeth was asleep before they reached the door.

* * *

Mr. Bennet was missing his favorite daughter sorely. He'd been asked, of course, for his blessing to allow Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy marry, but he had until now neglected to mention any of it to his wife or other children. Lydia, who had not been home ten minutes, had already caused more uproar than had ever been seen at Longbourn. Mr. Bennet doubted even Sherman's Army had made as much noise as his youngest daughter. She babbled excitedly with her mother and Kitty, shouted at her father for sending her to 'that awful place'.

"And YOU," she turned on Darcy, pointing her finger about an inch from his face, "I can't believe my sister would marry dry old stick like you!"

Darcy, after several hours of being subjected to Lydia's opinion on his shortcomings, had finally had enough.

"If I were you, _Lydia_, I would hardly be questioning Elizabeth's choice of husband, seeing as how _yours _just got dragged off to military _prison_!"

"WHAT!" Mrs. Gardiner, Kitty, Mary and Mrs. Bennet all said in unison, almost all of them for different reasons.

Mr. Bennet groaned and put his face in his hands. "Oh Lydia!" Mrs. Bennet enthused.

"Why are you doing this to me, Lord?" Mr. Bennet said into his palms. Neither Lydia nor Darcy heard him, each renewing their attack on the other with increased vigor.

"George never would have had to go into the Army if _you_ had given him what was in your father's will!"

"I can't believe that you could be as gullible as you sound! You're talking about the man _who threw all of your clothes into the Atlantic Ocean!_ I'm sure HIS word can be trusted!"

Mrs. Bennet hadn't heard a word of what Mr. Darcy had said, apart from the word 'Husband'. When Lydia failed to find a comeback for his last retort, her mother took her chance to speak.

"Oh Lydia! Is it true? You're _married_?" She grabbed the fan she normally used as a placeholder in her bible, Jesus clad in blue robes, his sad eyes cast heavenward. She fanned herself vigorously, her eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement.

"Oh just you wait until I tell Mrs. Long! I'd call her this instant if I didn't want to see the look on her Moon Pie face." Mr. Bennet was convinced that he was trapped in a nightmare. It only got worse when his wife realized that she had more than one daughter married. She turned to her new son-in-law, who looked as though he preferred it when he was being ignored.

"And Mr. Darcy! Married to our Lizzie! She'll be so well set up, the clever girl; though I'm sure she never did anything to deserve it!"

Darcy was trying to form a reply; he felt the need to defend Elizabeth but didn't want to insult her ridiculous mother in the process. Lydia saw the opportunity and pounced.

"Well, I feel sorry for poor Lizzie. I'm sure she's being punished for something, being married to this boring old stiff. I don't care if he _is_ richer than King Solomon, I wouldn't marry him for all the money in the world!"

"Lydia!" Mrs. Gardiner warned. .

"That's fortunate," Darcy practically shouted, "because I think it would just about _take_ all the money in the world to convince any man with sense to marry a silly, thoughtless thing like you!"

Lydia gasped and opened her mouth to retort when someone shouted from the doorway.

"That's ENOUGH!"

Jane glared at everyone in the room, her hands curled into fists at her sides. Charles Bingley stood directly behind her on the porch with his mouth hanging open at the scene in front of him. He'd known Will Darcy for almost ten years, and had never once heard him raise his voice, much less to a teenage girl.

Jane took a deep breath and stepped into the room, grabbing Lydia by the arm and all but dragging her up the stairs. Mrs. Bennet stood as if to follow them, but was stopped by Jane's next words.

" I'd stay where you are, mother, unless you want a Come-To-Jesus talk too." Mrs. Bennet looked at Jane as if she'd never seen her before; everyone in the room was doing the same. Bingley grinned ear to ear, making a mental note never to find himself on his future wife's bad side. Mrs. Gardiner also smiled. She could hardly wait to tell Elizabeth. She wouldn't believe it!

Mr. Bennet began to think he was less in a nightmare, more in a surrealist hallucination. He dropped his hands and scrutinized his eldest. He'd always loved his daughters, of course, but for the first time he saw sweet, gentle Jane was not the Saint everyone seemed to think she was. Or, she had just proven that even Saints had a finite amount of patience.

Lydia was starting to whine, trying to twist her arm out of her sister's grip without success. Jane turned and led her up the stairs.

"Lydia, you be quiet or I will make Papa cut me a switch this minute." Everyone heard Jane threaten, just before the door to her room shut, cutting off the voices of both girls.

Mr. Bennet stood and looked at his wife.

"Well Fanny," he said, "I think our Jane finally found her backbone."

* * *

Elizabeth had no idea what time, or even what _day_ it was. She sat up, blinking and looking around the room. She recognized the master suite, but she had never actually slept in it until now. Almost as soon as they'd said their vows, Darcy had left to find her wayward sister. Without him there, Elizabeth still felt a little like a guest in what was now her own home. Unsure how she had gotten to bed in the first place, she looked down and saw that she wore one of her own nightdresses and assumed Georgiana or Anne had changed her as she slept. All she remembered was the news that Lydia was found, and Claire was awake, then nothing.

Someone, Georgiana she presumed, was playing piano somewhere in the house, a melody Elizabeth didn't recognize. The sound, gentle and bittersweet, called to her somehow, and she found herself getting up to look for her robe. It took her several minutes before she realized she had used her robe as a field dressing for Claire. She searched for her suitcase, but it was apparently still in the guest room she'd slept in until now. The melody continued, it seemed to flow like water under the door, up through the soles of her feet, all the way to her heart, which was now beating a little faster than it had been moments ago. She threw on one of Darcy's robes and padded out into the hall, walking towards the music room with the intent of asking Georgiana the name of the song she was playing. She had never heard anything like it.

She stopped in the open doorway and gave a little gasp of surprise. It wasn't Georgiana who sat at the piano but Darcy, his broad back facing her. She saw his long-fingered hands moving over the keys with complete ease as the song changed tempo. Elizabeth felt a tingle over every inch of her skin, and a strange, warm sensation in the pit of her stomach that made her tremble. Without thinking, she stepped towards him until she was close enough to touch his shoulder. He seemed to feel her behind him, and stopped playing abruptly. Elizabeth felt as though something had been pulled from her chest, and made an involuntary sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

Darcy turned to look at Elizabeth. She stood barefoot, in a simple nightdress of crisp, wrinkled white cotton. Her hair spilled out behind her in auburn waves. She was a bit pale, and her magnificent eyes seemed to be asking an urgent question, as if the fate of everything would be decided on his answer. She reached out, her fingers grazing his cheek light as a whisper.

His dark eyes bore into her, and without looking away he took her hand, pressing his mouth to the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. She felt hot moisture as his lips parted, his tongue tasting her skin. She gasped but did not pull away.

"Will…" she whispered, and then she was in his arms. Her feet didn't touch the ground and she realized she was actually _in_ his arms as he carried her out of the room.

He kissed her, every pain, and every ounce of exhaustion gone. It was her, Elizabeth. _My Elizabeth. _He wasn't sure if he thought it or said it aloud, over and over. He tasted her mouth, her hair, the salty-sweetness of her neck.

Time was no longer a one-way street. He saw a hundred images in his head, and all of them were her. He felt every word she'd spoken to him, every touch, every kiss as if they were all happening at once. He carried Elizabeth to their rooms, while at the same time he stood hidden in the trees watching her swim, shadowed in the corner of a dance hall as she sang on a stage, he leaned over and took a ripe, perfect peach from her outstretched hand, he raced her up a tree, he fled the room at Netherfield as a hurt look crossed her face, he knelt in front of her in a moonlit garden, he saw her throw her head back, laughing with her whole body as she danced with Georgiana, he slipped a slender ring on her finger. He saw them for what they were, these thousand little moments, the thousand small decisions that led him to her. They were a blessing. Even his pride, or her prejudice, or the multitude of idiotic things that had threatened to pull them apart from the beginning, all of it was a blessing. Now he knew, there was nothing they couldn't face. They'd come up against the worst again and again and were still standing.

_Well, not exactly Standing,_ he thought as they collapsed on the bed she'd just gotten out of. She pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

"I'm so glad that Charles bought Netherfield."

He could only agree.


	24. Because I Know No Other Way

"Have you decided?"

"Don't rush me!"

"It's not exactly life-or-death, Elizabeth. Would you rather have cake…or pie?"

"Well, I do like cake. But then again…_Pie." _Darcy decided to use her distraction to his advantage.

"I have a surprise for you."

"Another one?" Elizabeth said, surprising herself with her own boldness.

"Such moxie!" Darcy chortled. He tapped his index finger on the tip of her nose. "I love it when you're childish."

"I have no idea what you mean. _I _was talking about you playing the piano."

"I told you I would play for you…when you least expected it." He traced patterns on her bare back, making her shiver..

"You did surprise me, but then you almost always do." Darcy looked surprised and pleased. He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her, trying to take in every detail.

Elizabeth's auburn curls spilled out on the pillow behind her, fanning away from her face. Her eyes shone like he'd never seen them before, brimming with some new secret that was his alone to discover. He took in the line of her body, his eyes touching every inch of her creamy skin. An inviting flush spread across her face and neck at his scrutiny, but she made no move to cover herself.

"Do you even know how beautiful you are?" he asked in a low voice, which only made her blush more pronounced. She reached up to play with the hair at the back of his neck, grown too long and beginning to curl.

"I could ask you the same thing" she murmured. A delighted smile spread across his face, making him look like a completely different man. He _was_ a completely different man. He certainly wouldn't be mistaken for the brooding, scowling man who stalked Meryton's dance hall. He leaned into her, his kiss gentle at first, growing in urgency.

"Wait!" she halted him. "What about my surprise?"

Darcy chuckled and plunged his hands into her hair, bringing her face closer to his own.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

Jane stood amazed at the sight of the great house at Pemberley. Despite it's massive size, the lines of the house were graceful, it seemed to flow upwards from the ground as if was grown rather than built. The edifice was warm, mellow stone that seemed to glow in the early afternoon sunlight.

The house itself sat just above the base of the mountain, overlooking the valley below. The soft sweep of the grounds seemed to melt into the rolling hills. Jane noted that the lawns and gardens were manicured, but not overly so; nothing was forced or artificial. She could only imagine how beautiful it was in the spring and autumn.

"Well Jane," her father came to stand next to her, stretching after the long ride, "do you think this was the reason Lizzie was in such a hurry?"

"Don't be silly, Papa." Jane scolded, but her heart wasn't in it. She was too taken in by the breathtaking view. Every place she looked seemed to beckon to her, before the next piece of beauty drew her eye.

"It _is _beautiful." Mary said from behind them. Jane turned to look at her sister, surprised. Mary rarely praised anything except The Lord.

"God's handiwork should be appreciated by all." Mary said with a sweeping gesture towards the valley.

"That's more like it," Mr. Bennet said under his breath.

"Shall We?" Jack Preston had just climbed out of his own car and approached the three Bennets, suppressing a smile at their gawking. It had taken a supreme effort on his own part not to gawk the first time he'd come to Pemberley. He always tried to assume an attitude of the guy who had done everything and seen it all, twice. It was good for business.

He recognized the man who came down the steps and approached them as Mr. Hale, also known as the Guy Who Writes The Checks. The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds was walking alongside him.

"Mr. Preston" Hale shook to his hand in his own firm, dry grip. He turned to the others.

"You must be Mr. Bennet, and Miss Jane and Miss Mary." He took turns shaking hands with all of them before speaking to Mr. Bennet directly.

"I'm Nathan Hale. I'm the Estate Manager for Mr. And Mrs. Darcy. And this is Mrs. Reynolds, Pemberley's housekeeper" He motioned to the woman who stood behind him, an older woman who had a kind smile and frizzy hair, but was otherwise neat as pin.

"I'd like to congratulate you on your daughter Elizabeth's marriage," Mr. Hale inclined his head towards Jane "and Miss Jane's engagement as well. I've known Mr. Bingley for a long time now, he's a very fine young man."

"Yes, he is" Jane all but swooned. Mr. Bennet fought the urge to roll his eyes. Mrs. Reynolds smiled knowingly as if to say _Young People!_

"For now," the housekeeper said, "Mr. Darcy asked me to bring you and your daughters with me, they'll be joining you shortly."

"And if you'll follow me, Jack, we can take care of our business right away." Mr. Hale nodded at the Bennets one last time and led Jack inside the house.

"Will you follow me?" Mrs. Reynolds said with a smile.

She led them to a great brick patio overlooking an expanse of lawn that was still green despite it almost being Thanksgiving. Jane could see a garden off to the side, walled in by hedges. She almost expected to see Mary Lennox come skipping out of the arched entryway, and she itched to explore it herself. _The Secret Garden_ had been her favorite book as a girl. She started in surprise when a girl _did_ emerge from the garden. She looked to be about Kitty or Lydia's age, with heavy brown hair, gentle eyes and a full mouth. Jane recognized her as Mr. Darcy's sister almost immediately; she'd seen Darcy wearing that same painfully awkward expression on more than one occasion. Another young woman followed Miss Darcy out of the garden. The two were very similar in looks, but the other girl was obviously older, taller and more slender. She had the same hair, but where Georgiana's face was round and pleasant, hers was lean and striking. She too seemed uncomfortable but determined.

"Mr. Bennet!" a jovial voice called from their right. Richard Fitzwilliam was rising up from an outdoor chaise where he'd been reading a moment ago. He slipped a piece of paper in between the pages to mark his place and rose to greet them, leaving his book on the chaise without a second thought.

* * *

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall…"

Elizabeth stood in front of herself, reflected in the large mirror that occupied a whole corner of her massive (and empty) closet. She'd put her hair into her usual braid and donned one of her print dresses that she'd brought from home. She turned her head from side to side, scrutinizing her reflection.

"Mrs. Darcy" she said to her own image, her tone accusing. "Elizabeth June Darcy. Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Speaking his name made Darcy come to mind, and she remembered him as he had been only an hour ago, propped up against the pillows in their bed, covered only by a sheet. She and her mirror-twin blushed, and Elizabeth wondered how long it would take for her to _feel_ married.

"Elizabeth Bennet Darcy. How's that?" he said from behind her. She started, spinning around to face him.

"Will Darcy, are you trying to startle me to death?"

She saw that he was already dressed. He exuded confidence, looking every inch the millionaire. _Millionaire on vacation,_ she silently amended, noticing the open collar of his perfectly pressed white shirt.

"Will?" she asked, turning back to the mirror. "Do you _feel_ married?"

His reflection smiled crookedly at her. "Not as married as I would _like_ to feel right now." He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

She swatted his arm playfully. "You rascal".

They stood there a few moments, considering their reflection before he asked if she was ready for her surprise. He strode out of the closet, pausing at the door to wait for her.

"Almost." She called. She looked back to the mirror once more. _Elizabeth Bennet Darcy. _She nodded with satisfaction before joining him at the door.

* * *

Richard excused himself to go check on Claire, who was resting in their room upstairs. Elizabeth hardly noticed, as overwhelmed as she was by her joy at seeing her sisters and her father again. Days ago she'd sworn she'd never be able to enjoy Pemberley's family living room again after the horror of Claire's accident. Now she sat in that very same room between Jane and her Father, the accident the absolute furthest thing from her mind. Of course it helped that the bloodstained rug had been replaced.

Seeing Richard get up to leave, Darcy also excused himself and followed his cousin out of the room.

"Richard, after you've seen Claire would you come find me in my study? I just have one small piece of business I'd like to clear up before dinner."

"Why don't we clear it up now then?" A cold feeling was spreading through Richard's chest. He suddenly recalled the look his mother would get when she would catch him wrestling with James, it looked like a mixture of disappointment and amusement. He was somewhat taken aback seeing it on Darcy's face now. He followed his cousin to his study and shut the door behind him, despite his urge to leave it propped open for his own safety.

"Have a seat, Dick." Darcy looked at him levelly as he leaned against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed across his chest. He stood that way, not speaking, for what felt like an eternity to Richard. Finally, his patience wore out.

"Is there something you want to say to me, Will?"

"I'm wondering if there is something _you_ want to say to _me_, actually."

"About? I'd like to see my wife sometime tonight, I'd rather not sit down here and play games with you." Richard had reached the limit of his patience and stood as if to go, but Darcy's next words froze him in his tracks.

"I understand you got an interesting piece of mail lately."

_Oh Hell. _Richard swallowed, hard. _Why is he bothering ME about it, I didn't send the damned thing!_

"What do you know about it?" he croaked.

"Only that it's fake. Caroline Bingley's work, it so happens. You don't seem especially surprised so I'm guessing you already figured out that Elizabeth didn't send it."

"Very astute. Tell me, will you be taking over for Preston or should I just start calling you Sherlock?"

Darcy stood up, looming over his cousin.

"Did you say anything, and I mean _anything_ about it to Elizabeth?"

"Of course not!" Richard spat, turning his back to Darcy.

"I know what it said, more or less. I had the _pleasure_ of reading the rough draft. Richard-" Darcy paused, unsure of how to proceed. Richard still had his back turned.

"Just tell me," he continued a bit more gently, "Just tell me it's over for you. Because if it isn't…you've got to let her go, Richard."

Richard turned back to Darcy, a tired smile on his face. "Don't worry, Will. I came to that conclusion on my own good time. I won't deny that there was a time that…but no, it's behind me now. Things are as they should be. "

"And Claire?"

"She doesn't know about any of it. The letter, Charleston, none of it. I'd like to keep it that way."

Darcy nodded and clasped a hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"_That_ I can do." He dropped his hand. "But Richard?"

"Hmm?"

"If you haven't done it already, burn the letter."

* * *

As pleasant as Jane Bennet was, and amusing as Mr. Bennet and Mary were (for entirely different reasons), Anne was finding the little reunion difficult to bear. Of course it was easy to be happy for Elizabeth. Anne had laughed and clapped along with everyone else when Elizabeth had literally _jumped_ into her sister Jane's arms, knocking herself, Jane and Mary over in the process.

All this love and familial affection only reminded Anne of how badly she missed her own mother. The image of Mrs. Jenkinson rose in her mind, making her eyes water. She reached into her pocket and brought out a quarter, not as good as her Liberty half-dollar, but serviceable. She bounced the coin across her knuckles several times, so lost in thought that she didn't notice at first the man who'd just come into the room. He had piercing blue eyes and was staring at her as if he'd never seen a woman before.

Startled, Anne dropped the quarter mid-bounce. She reached down to pick it up but the stranger was quicker, grabbing the coin where it promptly disappeared into his hand.

Jack Preston had at first not noticed the woman when he walked into the room, he only saw her after saying his hellos to the Bennets and Darcy's sister. She sat back in her chair with an unconcerned air that didn't reach her troubled eyes. Her dark hair was pinned away from her face, hanging down her back in heavy waves. There was something in the angular planes of her face and how they contrasted with the almost childish pout of her full mouth that instantly fascinated him.

_Oh Lady, you are trouble._ He thought.

"Hey that's odd" he said, opening his hands and looking around for the quarter she'd dropped.

"It's okay, I've got more quarters." She said. Her voice was deep for a woman's, like rich dark silk.

"Wait, I think I see it." He narrowed his eyes to a spot behind her head. He reached behind her ear, and "pulled" the quarter out, presenting it to her. This trick was his secret weapon; it never failed, especially with women. He briefly considered saying "_Ta Da!"_ but didn't want to overdo it.

To his great surprise, the mesmerizing woman snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Keep it" she said, getting up from her chair "I'd put it towards learning some new tricks. Consider me an investor."

Astounded, Jack watched her as she walked across the room, sitting down next to Darcy's sister. She seemed to forget he was in the room the moment she walked away. To Jack Preston, this made her all the more irresistible.

_Definitely Trouble._ Jack thought. He would have been gratified to know that at that moment, Anne's thoughts were almost identical to his own.

* * *

Richard crept out of the room quietly so as not to wake Claire. He had one last thing to do before he could call it a night himself. He made his way downstairs, out to the large patio where he'd left a certain book (and a certain bookmark) earlier that day. The night air was cold, almost frigid, and his breath came out in white puffs.

_The Mysteries of Udolpho _still sat on the chaise where he'd left it. He'd started reading the book itself while Claire rested, and unexpectedly found himself drawn into the story. He opened the book, looking for the counterfeit letter he'd been using to keep his place.

And found nothing.

"Oh hell." He flipped through the pages, turned the book upside down and shook it. More Nothing. "Double, triple hell."

"Hello Richard."

He whirled around to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway. He barely registered that she held a very familiar envelope in her hand. Her face was tight with anger, her eyes sparked like flint. She held the envelope up and waved it at him.

"Looking for this?"


	25. Where Wolves Fear To Prey

_A/N: Well, folks...this is (almost) it. There will only be one chapter after this one, and that's just the epilogue, so it'll be a short one. I should have that up by tomorrow and that will be that. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! _

* * *

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey. - Lord Byron

* * *

"Looking for this?"

"Elizabeth-" he started.

"Tell me," she interrupted "you didn't actually _buy_ this."

Richard heard the heat in her voice, and was suddenly, inexplicably angry. He was fed up with all the misunderstandings, he didn't understand how two people he cared about could always be so quick to assume the worst of him.

"What exactly was I supposed to think?" he snapped. "I was coming out here to get rid of the damned thing. If you think I'd keep such a pathetic souvenir, then sweetheart, you don't know me at all."

"What I want to know" Elizabeth retorted, undeterred by the venom in his voice, "is where this came from, and _how did they know?_ The only people who know that we'd….already met," she faltered "are Will, my aunt and Jane."

"And Bingley." Richard saw the realization in her eyes when he mentioned Bingley. It was only a short step from Charles to…

"Caroline." She said. To Richard's surprise, a wry grin overspread her face.

"What _will_ we do with Miss Bingley? She's just full of surprises, isn't she? I have to hand it to her; this one was clever. I wonder what she'll think of next."

"Hopefully that she'll live a much longer, happier life if she leaves us all alone." Richard replied. Elizabeth chuckled and crumpled the letter up into a compact ball, tossing it to him.

"I wouldn't count on it. Tell me, Richard. Did you _really_ think this sounded like me?" Her eyes were serious despite her playful tone.

"Actually, that was what gave it away. I knew...I _know_ that you're too good to play Darcy like that."

Elizabeth nodded, satisfied. "I'd better go inside, it's freezing out here." She patted his arm affectionately. All was forgiven.

Richard followed soon after, pausing just long enough to throw the balled-up letter into the fireplace in Darcy's study.

_Good Riddance,_ he thought, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Preston." Elizabeth looked to her father, who simply shrugged. She suppressed the surge of annoyance she felt at this casual gesture. She felt a large, warm hand give her shoulder a firm squeeze and she relaxed a little. No matter what, she had _someone _she could count on.

"Is she married or not?" Elizabeth continued, somewhat steadier than she had been a moment ago.

Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane, Mr. Bennet and Jack Preston were gathered in Darcy's study. Elizabeth sat behind the desk, feeling dwarfed by it. Her husband was thinking that she looked very comfortable, very _natural_ there.

"Well, by all appearances, yes." Jack shuffled some papers until he found what he was looking for.

"Lydia Elaine Bennet was married to George Leslie Wickham in the Orangeburg County courthouse, by the Honorable Judge Milhouse. It just so happens that the marriage isn't legal, because George Wickham is already married."

"Already Married?" Elizabeth and Jane said in unison.

"Leslie?" Mr. Bennet said at the same time.

"It turns out" Jack said with amusement in his voice, "That Mrs. Younge is actually Mrs. Wickham, the real Mrs. Wickham. They were married not long after Mr. Wickham tried to convince Miss Georgiana to elope."

"That explains a few things." Darcy said to himself.

"So what now?" Jane asked.

"Well, I'll have to file some paperwork but that should take care of it. It might take a little time, but soon enough your sister will be legally free to marry any wayward soldier she wants."

Elizabeth and Jane shared a look. "Maybe we don't have to tell her _that_, per se." Darcy suggested.

"Yes, well…" Jack said, shuffling his papers again to hide his embarrassment. He wasn't used to watching what he said around Darcy.

"Excuse the interruption." Someone said from the doorway. Jack started involuntarily at the sound. He knew the owner of that dark, rich voice. He'd been introduced to Anne deBourgh the previous night after his disastrous attempt at impressing her. Rather than shaking the hand he offered at the introduction, she'd simply nodded coolly at him. Jack was starting to believe he'd never seen a more maddening, intriguing woman in his life.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Anne looked in his direction, causing him to drop all of the papers he'd been holding. He began picking them up, muttering curses under his breath. He saw Elizabeth Darcy look from Anne to him, not bothering to hide a knowing, infuriating smile. _Women!_ His top priority that day was to get far away, as soon as possible.

Anne also was feeling discomfited, and had been since the moment Jack Preston had interrupted her reverie the night before. There was something almost familiar about him, as if he had stepped out of one of her daydreams. While he wasn't classically handsome, his lopsided smile and piercing blue eyes made her feel more flustered and confused than she'd ever felt before.

She tried to compensate for her complete ignorance of how to act around men by emulating the women she admired in the movies, who were always calm and collected. These women were In Charge, something Anne had never been in her life. She doubted Bette Davis had been kept away from the opposite sex most of _her_ life. _With exception of ignorant, gossipy ministers_, she amended.

Anne had only ever kissed one person in her life. Mrs. Jenkinson had walked in one day to find Anne kissing her middle son, Thomas, when they were eleven years old. She'd pulled them apart with a look that was half-amused, half-furious. She never brought Thomas with her to work after that. It had been years later when Anne realized that Catherine would have had Mrs. Jenkinson fired on the spot if she'd known. After that, it was easier to only think of men in her daydreams.

Now seeing Jack almost glaring at her, Anne wondered if she shouldn't try to make more of an effort to get to know him. _Who's going to tell me I can't? _She wondered. For the first time, she felt the full freedom she had now away from her mother. It was elating, Anne wanted to run all the way down to the nearest juke joint, drink a glass of gin, and kiss the man in front of her until her lips were swollen. These passing thoughts flicked across her face, each one making her smile more than the one before it.

Jack could only stare in amazement. She no longer looked cool and distant as she had only moments ago. There was something more _alive_ about her now, she seemed to almost crackle with electricity. It was as though someone had turned on a light under her skin, and all thoughts of leaving were entirely gone.

"Have you had lunch yet?" He asked her.

"I'd love to." She said. He didn't even need to ask.

* * *

The first snow fell on Pemberley the week after Thanksgiving.

Elizabeth and Georgiana ran outside, bundled in their heavy coats, gloves and scarves. They played like children, trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. They were only disappointed that Anne was missing out; she'd gone to her house in Savannah and wouldn't be back until Christmas. Elizabeth suspected that Jack Preston would be joining her, and approved.

Darcy could hear Elizabeth and Georgiana laughing from where he sat in his study. He'd declined to join them; he'd been going over the proposal Bingley had sent him for the expansion of Granby Mills. The sound of their girlish laughter drew him away from his desk, and he stood at the window for a full ten minutes before going back to work with a smile on his face.

Richard had spent a good part of the day in his own office, arranging to have Claire's house packed up and her belongings put into storage. They'd decided to stay at Pemberley.

He was also overseeing the renovation of the old carriage house, which Darcy and Elizabeth had given to them as a wedding gift. Claire had scoffed that at least two of her house on Selby Avenue would fit into their new one.

Richard came into the living room where Claire sat on a sofa reading a book. She'd declined Elizabeth and Georgiana's invitation to enjoy the snow, being from Minnesota meant that snow was not something she typically celebrated.

"Are you tired?" she asked at seeing him rubbing his eyes. He nodded wordlessly and lay down on the sofa, his head in her lap.

"I won't be able to do this for much longer." He said.

"Enjoy it while it lasts." She muttered, absorbed in her book. Ironically, she'd decided to read _The Iliad._

She felt a strange fluttering sensation followed by what could only be described as a small _thump_. She dropped her book with a gasp.

"Claire, are you alright?" Richard sat up, concerned. She still had headaches and some light sensitivity since her accident. He had been on edge for weeks, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Richard, it moved!" His forehead wrinkling, he splayed one hand over the roundness of her belly. He was about to tell her he didn't feel anything when he felt something bump against his palm.

"There it was again!" she said, amazed.

"I _felt_ it!" his voice was barely above a whisper. He leaned over until their foreheads rested together, marveling at this new wonder.

* * *

Will Darcy was having a wonderful time. He, Elizabeth and Georgiana had come to Meryton for Bingley and Jane's wedding. The party was in full swing at Longbourn. Every now and then someone would approach and offer them congratulations on their own wedding, even though they'd been married for almost six months. Darcy smiled, shook hands and made conversation as if he'd been doing it his whole life. Elizabeth was proud; she'd always known he had it in him. At one point he leaned over to whisper in her, telling her she'd been even more beautiful than the bride as they'd stood up in the church that morning.

"You aren't supposed to say that!" Elizabeth scoffed.

"Because she's the bride?" he asked

"Because she's _Jane_, you dolt!" Darcy smiled and put his arm around her slim shoulders, savoring the scathing look Caroline Bingley gave them from her table.

"Jane _was_ lovely," he continued in a low voice, "but Lizzie was always the great beauty of the Bennet family. To me, at least." Her cheeks colored, and he reveled in the fact that after everything they'd been through, he could still make her blush.

She stood abruptly and walked to where her aunt Gardiner stood talking to Georgiana. Darcy watched her say a few words to both before coming back to where he sat at their table, her lips barely suppressing a smile.

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Her only answer was to lift one delicate eyebrow in an all-too familiar gesture before she skipped into the woods.

"Elizabeth!" he stumbled into the trees where she stood on the path in front of him.

"I thought we might take a walk."

He was honestly glad to slip into the cool shade of the woods; it was almost uncomfortably hot and still early in the day. They held hands as they walked in companionable silence. They came to part of the path that had become terribly overgrown, and Darcy tried to clear the brambles away for them. Elizabeth only laughed and walked around, finding a clear way through off of the path.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Marcus Aurelius" was all she said. Darcy shrugged and changed the subject.

"Are you missing little James already?" He asked her. Claire had delivered a healthy baby boy two months ago, and all three of the Darcy's doted on him to excess.

"I'm sure his parents are enjoying having him all to themselves." She laughed.

"Do you think we might…" he let the question hang in the air.

"We might," she said simply. He kissed her hand, allowing himself to get caught up in the idea of having a family with Elizabeth. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed where they were walking until he felt her drop his hand.

Darcy looked up to see her peeling off her dress and slip, tossing them onto a nearby tree branch. He was caught in a dilemma, not knowing whether to ask her to stop or keep going. He saw the dark sparkle of the pond behind her and understood.

"Care for a swim, Mr. Darcy, or do you still prefer to observe?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye, just before she stepped out of her undergarments. She smiled at his dumbfounded expression before giving him a wink and jumping into the water. Darcy thought it was the most impressive cannonball he'd ever seen.

That decided him. He stripped off his jacket, yanking at his tie.

"Just you wait, Mrs. Darcy," he threatened as he threw his clothes over the same tree branch.

"Come on in," she called to him. "The water's perfect!"

It was, indeed, perfect.


	26. Ad Astra

_A/N: Here we are at the end. What can I say? Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and encouraging me in my first venture into fanfic. I'm going to miss this story!

* * *

_

Richard Fitzwilliam stood looking at the ocean, not the colorless Atlantic but the warm, mild, turquoise-colored waters of the Gulf. It was an incredibly bright day, the sun reflected off of the water and the sugar-white sand on the beach. He squinted down at the shoreline where Claire was allowing herself to be chased by James, who squealed with delight. Little Eliza, hearing her brother's laughter, struggled in her father's arms.

Richard smiled at his daughter and tightened his hold on the wriggling toddler. She was only three, but already was in constant competition with her brother. Anything _he_ did, _she_ had to try. James tolerated this with such good humor that Richard was reminded of himself as he was before the war.

James finally 'caught' his mother in the shallow surf. They laughed together as she held him under his arms, lifting him off the ground and spinning him in a slow circle. Eliza impatiently tugged on her father's hand, pointing to the fun she was missing out on. Her look was so accusatory; it seemed to almost say _Come on, Slowpoke! _Richard thought she was very like her namesake.

"All right, little lady," he chuckled, "Let's go join them." He made his way down to the water, where his family waited for him.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Nobody's life is perfect, not even Will and Elizabeth Darcy's. The years had brought it's own struggles for both of them. Elizabeth miscarried their second child in her fifth month of pregnancy, and was brought so low by it that Darcy had sincerely started to worry for her. She spent days at a time in bed with the curtains pulled shut against the sun. She would perk up a bit for their daughter Maggie, but otherwise shut everyone out, including him. Then one day he came into his study (which was now _her_ office) to find her poring over invoices for the feed they used at Agincourt Dairy.

Elizabeth had used the land he'd given her during their courtship brilliantly, taking a few hundred acres and turning it into a thriving corporation. After a few years, Agincourt was one of the largest dairy providers on the east coast. What profits she didn't give to her sisters (Lydia in particular, who was now living in Burbank and married to a man who did stunt work for the movies) she squirreled away 'for a rainy day'. It seemed that she had finally gotten tired mourning, and while she still grieved for her loss, she decided that life was better spent living than sleeping.

That same year, they had a fight like they'd never had before. It was over Georgiana's invitation to join the New York Conservatory of Music. Darcy was dead-set against it. Elizabeth tried to reason with him that his sister was now a grown woman, an adult, and should be allowed to have a life of her own. He'd unwisely retorted that while running around from place to place might be fine for _her_ sister, he'd be damned if he'd see Georgiana do so.

It was Anne who finally brought him around to understanding, pointing out that Darcy was acting in a way that would make Catherine deBourgh proud. That was all it took to change his mind. Convincing Elizabeth of his contrition, however, was a little more difficult. They argued again, this time the fight ended not with doors slamming, but with clothes tearing. After that Elizabeth made it a point to argue with her husband as much as possible.

Another child came as a result of their "arguments", a boy they named Eli. Maggie was delighted with her baby brother, bragging about him to her Bingley cousins, who were all girls.

Charles Bingley certainly came to understand and appreciate his father-in-law even more after he had Jane had four daughters. Unlike Mr. Bennet, he never hid from the overwhelming female presence in the house. In return all four of his daughters adored their father and never gave him any trouble, perhaps with the exception of Kate, the second youngest. She had a streak of foolishness that reminded both of her parents of Lydia.

Caroline eventually thawed towards Jane. It was the birth of their first daughter, Clarissa, which finally brought Caroline around to accepting Charles' wife. Caroline fell completely in love with her little nieces, and that love softened her. She would never be a warm or welcoming person, though. Doubtless she would have been horrified to know that all of her nieces preferred their Bennet aunts to her.

Anne took possession of her home in Savannah, but stayed there only when she wasn't traveling. She spent a good deal of time with Evalina Jenkinson, making sure the woman who raised her was able to enjoy her retirement in comfort. She married Jack Preston in the first year of her emancipation from Rosings. She had survived her mother with her sense of adventure intact, and the two traveled nonstop for the first few years of their marriage. They went to the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, even Brazil. Anne bought a small seaside villa in Greece, where they lived a simple and almost isolated life. Jack loved Greece, but mostly loved how much _Anne_ loved Greece. She would spend hours in the markets, dreamily touching the fruits and vegetables like they were rare and precious gemstones rather than food.

They came back to live in the states when Evalina suffered a stroke. Anne had tried several years past to make peace with Catherine. Her overtures had been spurned by her mother, who apparently couldn't forgive Anne for walking out on her, or for having the audacity to actually claim her own inheritance.

This had been surprisingly easy for Anne to bear, and from then on she considered Evalina Jenkinson to be her only mother. And while Anne missed Greece, she said a prayer of thanks that she'd come home soon enough to spend some time with Evalina before she passed away only a few months later. Anne made sure that the generous pension she'd been paying her continued to go to Evalina's children, even setting up scholarship funds for her grandchildren.

Thomas Jenkinson and Anne Preston met again for the first time since they were eleven years old at the funeral. He had his own wife and children now, and to everyone's surprise he and Jack struck up an immediate friendship. Thomas was an officer of his chapter of the NAACP, which led to Jack and Anne to participate in the March on Washington in 1963. Anne went on to write a book about the March, which earned some critical acclaim but was never a bestseller.

Five years later they helped set up a massive Foundation to benefit Veterans and their families. The Foundation had been entirely the idea of Richard and Claire Fitzwilliam, whose son James had been injured in the War. James had been in Vietnam for eight months when he lost two fingers and his left eye in a land mine explosion.

Will and Elizabeth Darcy contributed millions to the foundation, and Elizabeth worked with James to set up a program that provided rehabilitation and job training for injured soldiers. This turned out to be her 'rainy day', and by 1970, Agincourt Dairy was one of the largest employers of veterans and minorities in the south, followed closely by Granby Mills and Bell Cove Farms.

Georgiana Darcy became a celebrated concert pianist, but was even more recognized for her role as the darling of New York society. She admitted to Elizabeth that she was in part emulating her, as Georgiana developed a reputation for wry smiles and sassy opinions.

* * *

Everyone gathered at Pemberley to celebrate Margaret Jane Darcy's graduation from Vassar. It was a fine night in June; the grand patio was festooned with hanging lanterns and covered tables. An old-fashioned Jazz ensemble played from a stage that had been built for the occasion.

Pemberley itself had changed little over the years, much like the people who had lived and loved there. Darcy stood off to one side, observing their friends and family with a full heart.

Richard and Claire were there with James and his fiancee, a nurse he'd met at the Veteran's hospital. Anne and Jack Preston sat in earnest conversation with Charles Bingley. The Bingley daughters, Maggie Darcy, and Eliza Fitzwilliam were dancing with their aunts Georgiana, Kitty and Lydia. Darcy's eyes at last found Elizabeth, his heart and soul. She and Jane stood side-by-side, their arms wrapped around each others waists. They were chatting with Georgiana's husband, a German cellist who told jokes only Elizabeth seemed to understand.

He must have told a good one at that moment, as Elizabeth threw her head back and laughed with her whole body. The sight of her still made him feel as if his heart would stop beating if he didn't touch her. Her hair hung loose down her back, her curls bouncing as she laughed and the sight of it arrested him. They'd both started going gray years ago, but her gray hairs had come in as one elegant streak. He absolutely adored it, and was amazed how she seemed to get even more lovely with each passing year. _Age cannot wither her,_ he recalled.

Their son Eli interrupted the little group, whispering something in Elizabeth's ear. While Maggie had gotten all of her father's seriousness, Eli had inherited his mother's laughing eyes and playful smile. She nodded, looking excited about something as he turned around and walked up to the stage. Her eyes sought out Darcy, and finding him already looking at her, she dropped a wink before following Eli up the stage. With his heart hammering in his chest, Darcy moved closer to get a better view.

Eli produced a guitar and sat tuning it while Elizabeth walked up to the microphone. After a moment he began strumming, a simple and sweet melody.

Elizabeth's smile was for Darcy alone as she started to sing. Her voice still sent jolts through him, it was still as sweet and clear as it had been the day he'd seen her swimming in Bingley's pond. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Richard, smiling knowingly at him. He lightly, affectionately socked his cousin's shoulder before looking back up at his wife.

'_Come in', she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm'._


End file.
